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 Posted: Wed Aug 09, 2006 12:37 am
As he returned the hug, she felt her awkwardly sized stomach get in the way some... Atleast it wasn't too bad. Her heart stilled it's nerviousness as he returned the hug, letting out the breath she'd been holding. Good.. She hadn't misread him. As she relaxed, she simply kept the hug there, as Kikue had done with her. Admitidly, this was much different than Kikue's hug. But she'd still stay there until he seemed ready to stop.
After a moment, she figured she should say something... She tried to get some thoughts going in her head, and then translate them to english. It took a moment, but she got something. "I.. Know I am not much but... We are friends." she paused to place some more words correctly. It would have been hard enough to figure out what to say in Japanese, let alone a second language... Still, she was trying. "I would like to help if i could..." She frowned some, that wasn't right... She knew there wasn't anything she could do about what was upsetting him. Opening her eyes so she could try and read his responces to what she was saying, she shifted letting out a light sigh. "I mean... Whatever friends do... yes? But... I am not sure what. I can not do anything." she admited, feeling her throat tighten suddenlly as she admited being powerless. The island was scary enough as it was, but Thom had pretty much saved her every time something went wrong... And now she couldn't do anything for him. "I am sorry." she finished, looking down towards the bedspread, just wishing she could somehow wave a magic wand and fix everything.
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Posted: Sun Aug 13, 2006 1:19 am
The hug was decidedly awkward, given Natsumi's stomach getting in the way of things, but it was a comfort, and Thom was thankful. He would have been quite content to have no one say a thing for a good long while, but when Natsumi spoke the plans changed a bit. He snapped back to his senses enough to draw back from the hug, but continued to avoid her eyes throughout her brief offer, instead fixing his gaze on the television, though he didn't actually comprehend anything that was taking place on screen.
Finally, however, he pulled his eyes away, returning them to her. He cleared his throat and cracked a smile, murmuring a quiet 'Thanks'. That was all. Anything else would likely have produced more of a reaction from him than he would have liked, and he really couldn't think of a way to change the subject at such a time. He couldn't walk. He was dead to the world. His friends were dead or seriously injured--and even then, he wouldn't see them again. What was there to smile about?
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Posted: Sun Aug 13, 2006 1:35 am
Natsumi looked back as he thanked her, offering the best reassuring smile she could muster under the circumstances. She wasn't as quick to pull away, leaving one hand on his arm and staying fairly close. Somehow, it felt as though it'd be better to just stay there. Though it was purely a gut feeling, and she'd pull away quickly if he showed any discomfort just on her sheer nerviousness that she'd do somethign to make everything worse.
The movements on the TV caught her attention, along with cheering and some booing as someone called a "combo shot" and then a striped man was calling something a "foul." While she might have understood a bit better if this wer ein Japanese, there was no such luck. And soccar-english 101 hadn't been offered in her school. She looked nervious a moment, before looking to Thom curiously. "What do they mean by.. Combo shot.. and foul?" wasn't that a word for birds? She just hoped he wouldn't mind answering her in his current state... Still a subject change was welcomed.
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Posted: Sun Aug 13, 2006 1:50 am
Though the hug was gone, the touch lingered still, for which Thom was thankful. It was a reassuring feeling, a sensation that went back to childhood and before, just knowing someone was there within arms' reach if needed...
Nonetheless, he was very thankful for the subject change. He seemed to snap back to his senses, taking a moment to wipe his eyes before focusing on the screen, voice only hinting at his present mood as he replied. Regardless of the announcement at the beginning of the match, this was still the World Cup, and that meant it was to be enjoyed. And so, grateful for the distraction, he lapsed into an explanation of exactly what was going on, continuing in such a manner throughout the match, and the next, and the next...
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Posted: Sun Aug 27, 2006 9:34 pm
Step, Glide, Step, Glide...
Discussing Escapes with Alec Foot, crutch, foot, crutch, and all the while the tail moved between; his steps were different, he mused, listening to the strange pattern as he made his way through the jungle. A call to the labs early that morning had resulted in the gift of a single crutch a short while later. but that was more than enough, in Thom's opinion, at least providing he managed to accomplish his intended goal.
Foot, crutch, let the tail keep up; focusing kept his mind off other things. Things like the moment of silence before the World Cup, like the deaths of five of his teammates, as well as verious others, like the fact that, even assuming he managed to walk, he would never run properly again. He would worry about that some other time. Right now, his goal was simple: Master walking with the tail so he could be rid of the shaming crutch.
It was difficult. The tail didn't step, it glided. He wasn't used to controlling it, and already had been forced to slow his normally brisk strides a good deal. Step, glide, keep the short leg cocked out of the way, shift his weight to the crutch when his balance on the tail failed. He would walk again. It was only a matter of time.
Alec gingerly treaded through the underbrush of the jungle, preoccupied with fidgitting with his CD player to notice any changes in the ever-vast expanse of green surrounding him. Walking under the trees was easier on his skin than the harsh light of the sun in exposed areas like the beach, but to keep it safe he'd draped a soaked towel over his head and shoulders so that he wouldn't dry out.
This was getting annoying. He practically had to change his patterns of travel so that he could ensure he'd be in the vicinity of a water source when he needed them. Not like his rubbery feet took him far anymore anyways.
Muttering and grunting a string of curses, the irish teen chomped his jaws in irritation as he tried to find a way to make use of the headphones when he heard the distinctly loud sound of a traveller nearby. Stopping in his tracks, he peered through the tall pillars of trees sourrounding the path he was taking, half-expecting something big and cumbersome to appear. He knew better than the call out just yet.
Foot, crutch, step, glide; sighing in frustration, Thom braced himself on his tail and tossed the crutch away from himself, into a patch of bushes. Without bothering to think of the possible down sides to his action, he dropped to sit on the ground, setting about rubbing his malformed left leg. It was terribly sore, moreso than the normal lingering pain after a transformation. More like a muscle cramp that just didn't want to lighten up, especially given the odd angle he had been carrying it at. For the umpteenth time that day, he attempted to loosen the muscle up, lazily massaging his leg there in the middle of his jungle. He was in no hurry, and less pain meant better focus on actually walking.
Intrigued as the sound seemed to cease for the time being, the shark boy took several tentative steps towards the source driven entirely by his own curiousity. Giving up on his CD player, he wrapped the loose cords around his wrist and held the object by his side as he peered further onwards.
At first the person was quite hard to see amongst the dappled greys, browns, beiges and greens of the scenery but with a little adjustment to the filtered lighting, Alec could see a distinct form under a tree. Bolding approaching with effort to be noisy to make himself known (not that he had to try very hard), the punk teen came up to stand by a tree facing the stranger. Oddly enough, he completely didn't recognize it as being the hot-headed soccer player. "Ay." He mumbled and leaned against the tree trunk, making a resounding noise of the scraping of bark-on-bark.
The sound of someone approaching was enough to warrant a brief glance up from his task, but almost immediately he returned his eyes to the shortened leg. It was another islander, still mostly human despite the altered head. There was no need to worry. Only with the strange sound of bark against bark and the short greeting did he glance up one more.
After a moment, he straightened up somewhat, though one hand continued to massage his left leg. "'Ey." A moment passed while he examined the other islander, and then he blinked, quirking a brow. Had it not been for the faint remnants of the mohawk, he would have never recognized the younger man. "Alec? Changed again, I see."
The male's changes were intriguing at first, the teen not noticing the twisted limb that was apparently asymmetrical to the other limb. His little knowledge of the animal kingdom always failed him at times like this. If it wasn't for the prominantly copper-coloured scales adorning his body, Alec would've guessed he was turning into somesort of hairless cat for all he knew.
He seemed at a loss for words at first, brow furrowing in thought. It took him a moment for the accent to set in, familiarity striking his memory as he wracked his brain to try and piece together the face to the voice. It struck him suddenly, the expression visible of his oddly-chiselled features. "Ay-eh, fookin' 'ell!" The shark boy suddenly exclaimed, black eyes trained on the now barely recognizable face. "A' di'nt see ye's a' first, ye wankeh! Ye look compleh'tly diff'nt now!" He couldn't believe how changed Thom had become. Had so much time passed without him realizing?
"Fookin' uneh'statem'nt." He managed to chuckle lightly, feeling slightly more comfortable now that he knew who he was speaking to though he wasn't sure if he was the person he would've preferred stumbling upon in the first place on account of their last meeting.
Alec's reaction was enough to spur a grin, indeed, enough that Thom actually laughed. "I could say th' same t' you, lad. If it 'adn't been for those tufts y'call a mo'awk, I'd never've recognized you." The teeth, perhaps, would've triggered a memory in time. Or the accent, certainly; the voice was clearly Alec's. But the boy's head... "What exactly are y' turnin' into?" Better this topic than their last meeting at the soccer match. He'd rather stay on good terms with the teen, and he was honestly curious. Alec looked like some mini-dinosaur.
Alec chuffed a laugh and rubbed at the fuzz that remained on his head, still sad that his hair, his pride and joy, was almost completely gone. Shrugging it off, he deicded to slide down to a sitting position under a tree opposite of Thom, trying his best to mind the protrusions down his back. "Tree-shawk." He answered with amusement, his only explanation for the now prominant bark and leaves sprouting from his limbs. He was still putting off talking to the staff about that, wasn't he?
"Ye look like th'snappehs a' caught n' Bakeh's pond back 'ome." The teen jabbed jokingly at Thom's appearance, referring to the snapping turtles found near the place he used to live in, back in Ireland. "Was i' recent?"
"Tree shark?" He echoed, both eyes widening. What in hell's name was a tree shark? He allowed himself a closer examination of the teen's changes, shaking his head in confusion. He could see it now, the shark: the head, the teeth, gills...and Alec was sitting oddly. Fins, perhaps? And yet there was bark and leaves. Sharks didn't grow leaves. "...What, th' docs can combine serums now?"
That was terrifying. Mostly because, given his own bizarre appearance, he could be just about anything. The strange deformation of his left leg didn't help matters any. "Well, I thought I was some kind of snake... Not so sure anymore." He grimaced, nodding. "Couple of days back. Still gettin' used to it."
Alec frowned and nodded a few times, nervously picking at a newly-grown leaf on the edge of his knee. He knew for a fact that if he was assured they'd never grow back and it wouldn't hurt like hell in the process, he'd rip them all out himself. The prospect was appealling but sadly, he didn't have the guts. Even he knew that.
"Ye, a' guess. A' was g'neh ask 'em bu'.... y'neh, a' d'n like talk'n t'them an' all.... a've been puttin' i' off." Poking at a new leaf as he spoke, he mentally chastized himself and let his hands drop to his sides instead. "Snake' ay? A' d'nt think they coul' do tha', yanno? 'Cept a' met tha' girl... the..." He made a a few exaggerated gestures to try and communicate just how big Cassidy had appeared to him. "Green n' feathehs."
Gesturing his head to Thom's leg, he muttered low an additional comment. "Tha' m'st be a b***h."
Thom nodded. He could sympathize. Though he was not adverse to demanding things of the labs, he had yet to ask exactly what his animal was, nor did he have any intention of doing so unless he absolutely couldn't figure it out on his own. There was a sense of finality to knowing that he just didn't want to address yet.
"No worries, 'aven't asked m'self... Just started figurin' when I broke ou in scales an' m' toes vanished." He shrugged, slumping to lean back against the tree behind him. "Cassidy. Met 'er a few times. S'pose that's what fate 'as for me." He grimaced at the memory of the python girl. That would be him after one more change... His resolve to walk again returned immediately with the thought.
With Alec's final words, he grunted his agreement, avoiding the teen's eyes while he returned to massaging the short, claw-like leg. "'Urts like hellfire. Feels like it's cramped up or some such. Bloody pain in th' arse gettin' around."
Alec tried not to make it obvious that he was staring at Thom's twisted and somewhat deformed leg, unable to satiate his curiousity fast enough. Who was he to stare? His faced looked like a trainwreck and the weird 'foliage' growths only added to the overall look of a textbook B-movie bog monster. Depressing didn't even begin to describe.
A thought struck him that moment, remnants of his chat on the beach with the unchanged stranger coming back to him as he sat there in the still jungle. "Y'eveh think 'bout leavin?" After a pause to wait for a response he realized he should have clarified his random idea a bit better. "Like... gettin' free o' this place?"
Stares were to be expected. Thom had spent a good portion of his time immediately following the change simply staring at the deformed leg. He didn't mind other staring provided there was no offense meant. There was a huge difference between an Alec stare and, say, an Antony stare. And so Thom endured the stare without complaint, doing his best to ignore it by focusing his attention on the leg, continuing the awkward massage.
However, with Alec's question, he glanced up, quirking a brow. For a long moment he was silent, and then he simply shrugged, eyes returning to his leg. "Briefly. Not after this last change. I doubt it's possible. But, out of sheer curiosity, why?"
Alec noticed Thom's lack of eye contact, immediately feeling an awkward tremor in the pit of his gut. Black pooled pupils turned their attention to the twisted roots that spurted from the soil around him for lack of any other better scenery.
He kept his face down even though he could hear the criticism in the snakeman's voice, not brave enough look upwards while trying to justify some idiotic idea that probably wouldn't work anyways. "A' d'neh." He mumbled, sounding defeated for a moment before the real 'battle' had even begun. "Cuz i's no' fun anehmo'." The teen flicked at a fallen leaf by his feet, twirling it by the stem as he muttered flatly. "Cuz a' w'neh leave."
"Anymore?" he snapped, piercing gold eyes darting back up to glare at the sharkman. "It was never 'fun', y'ruddy idiot." He scowled, then sighed, anger fading into momentary defeat. Glancing around, he caught sight of his crutch laying haphazardly in a bush nearby and, with the aid of the tree he was sitting against, managed to pull himself back to his feet--or, foot, rather.
He eyed the distance, decided against attempting to reach it while Alec was there should he fall, and returned his attention to the sharkman. "We all want t'leave. But what 'appens if we do get 'ome? Everyone who knew me thinks I'm dead, an' even if I came back, who'd b'lieve I'm me? Lookin' like this..." He grimaced, then shook his head. "There's no goin' back now. Now, if there were a way t', say, be rid of th' staff... May'aps talk some of th' lab tachs into findin' a way to reverse it, then..."
"'ow d'ye know theh's no' som'one ou' theh 'ou c'n make us betteh?" Alec frowned but didn't quite get as uppity as Thom was, apparently though he was starting to gather some spiteful thoughts to counter his attitude. "An' a' neveh though' it'd be this bad... 'til a' stahted lookin' like a fookin' tree thing." He was finding it hard to explain his thoughts to Thom as he spoke, knowing he would most likely end up directing the conversation into somewhere he never intended.
"An' a' know evreh'one wants t'leave. So why isn't aneh'one tryin', ay? Fifteh o' so pehple sittin' on our fookin asses while th-..." He trailed off, head turning as he watched Thom get up from his seat. He noticed that his eyes were trained on his crutch and without thinking, the teen shuffled to his bark-like knees and reached to retrieve it for him.
"I'll get it," he snapped, shooting a warning glare at the boy. He hadn't meant any offense, to be sure. It was a pride issue with Thom. It was shame enough to have to rely on the crutch as it was. He'd rather people encouraged him to accomplish things for himself, rather then making him feel more incompetant by aiding him. However, despite his outburst, he made no move towards the crutch.
Instead, he cleared his throat and replied as if it had never occurred. "This 'as t'be th' only bloody place in th' damned world that dabbles in this sort of...experimentation," he argued, waving a hand at nothing in particular to emphasize his point. "Anyone who can fix us is goin' t'be inside those labs. Only way t' win them over is t'be rid of Moreau. An' that 'as t'be nearly impossible."
Alec's hand quickly recoiled with a snap on his grey, rubbery limb until he was seated just as he had been a moment before. "E'kay." He looked a bit unsettled for a moment as he gave the barely-aduble reply, but he regained his composure soon enough seeing as he didn't have the guts to spit out a reply that would elicit a confrontation.
As Thom spoke he listened with interest. It was probably not his intention, but the english lad was starting to feed Alec's curiousity for a 'master plan' more than hinder him from ever devising one. The good Doctor was indeed in charge and perhaps his 'removal' was really what was needed to happen...
Even though he didn't make any comments just yet, it was clear that the young irish teen's wheels were turning.
Thom felt a tad guilty for snapping, but soon brushed it aside. Alec didn't seem terribly bothered by it. Indeed, the irish boy was busy thinking about something or other--no doubt his escape attempt--and had probably already forgotten Thom's outburst.
With Alec otherwise distracted, Thom set about devising a means of reaching the crutch that he had so brilliantly tossed away a short while ago. When no easy means was forthcoming, he settled on the achingly slow process of 'walking' without it. That is to say, while bracing himself against a tree with one hand and resting his weight on his tail, he would take a step, then allow his tail to catch up. Reach towards the next tree incase he should lose his balance, step, glide, repeat. Still sore from his change, his tail was reluctant to cooperate, and thus it was a terribly slow process. But it worked, and it didn't mean asking for help, and that was what mattered.
Although Alec seemed to indeed be lost in his own thoughts, he still was aware what Thom was doing. The sounds of his struggle was like background noise until the irish boy glanced up again, watching but not being obvious about it. "W'snt g'nneh laugh o' anehthin." He muttered under his breath, possibly too low to be heard since it was his intention. Why did Thom have to be so cross all the time?
"Ye thin' so?" He added out of the blue, drawing the conversation back from the dead. The snake man seemed the type to think up such a plan but maybe he was right...
It had never crossed Thom's mind that Alec might laugh at his predicament, especially given the teen's reaction to seeing his leg in the first place. He just hated the feeling of being helpless. As long as he could accomplish things for himself, he would continue to do so. Perhaps the feeling might mellow a bit as he grew used to moving about with one good leg, but with his change just past, pride had a strict hold on his habits.
He was silent until he reached the crutch and, bending, snatched it up, positioning it under his left arm and turning returning his attention to Alec now that he could manuver a bit more easily. "Think what? That it'd be impossible? Of course. That there's someone in th' labs who might help us? ...It's possible. They can't all be 'appy with what Moreau's doin' t'people."
Alec completely ignored what Thom was doing now, more enthawled with the conversation again as his enthusiasm began to rebuild itself from the rubble from a moment before. The cobra seemed pessimistic and critical of the idea but he kept throwing in random comments, comments that only spurred Alec into believing that deep down he really did believe it was possible. And maybe, just maybe, he'd be the one to join in and try.
He kept this silent for the most part, foreseeing a negative response already at the mention of building a sort of "resistance force" together. Then again, why shouldn't he? This was Alec he was talking to.
"Ye righ'." The irish boy simply admitted, letting Thom interpret the comment as he wished.
Thom raised a brow, but didn't bother to reply immediately. What would he have said? It Alec was as set on an escape attempt as he had seemed earlier, he should have taken the statement and run with it. But on the same note, why did Thom care? He didn't honestly believe there was any chance of escape. ...Or, rather, he did, but had no reason to escape, as there was nothing to go back to.
Still, the notion tugged at his mind... More the notion of revenge than freedom. If there really was the possibility of contacting someone within the labs... No, absolutely not. Thom shoved the thoughts from his mind, lazily setting his wight on the crutch. "So'm right. Does that change anythin'?"
"Ye." Alec smirked coyly, rising from his seat in a sudden and deliberate motion. "F'once. Thas wha's diff'r'nt." No use parting ways on a good one, he couldn't help but send a little jab to the cobra man.
Dusting himself off (though that didn't do much. It looked similar to a tree trying to shake off its own leaves), the shark boy leaned against a tree with the intention of leaving. He had many things to think about now and alone-time was needed.
Thom's expression darkened at the subtle attack, the sides of his neck giving an unpleasant twinge as if reacting to his anger. Choosing not to grace the teen with a reply, he turned and started back in the direction of his duplex with his odd walk, progress somewhat hindered by the jungle growth. The seed for revolution had been planted, but whether it would flourish now that his animosity for Alec had returned was left to be seen.
Alec, on the otherhand, looked quite pleased with himself as he started shuffling through the leaves towards his own duplex. He'd go back to have a long shower in quiet solitude -- but not before shouting out a farewell to his 'friend' first.
"See ye grump!"
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Posted: Sun Aug 27, 2006 9:35 pm
Food for Thought
The end of cafeteria dinners. Thom was utterly miserable. Or, well, hungry was probably the better term. Terribly, horribly hungry--starving, even, but not. He could probably go another day or two without eating again if he absolutely had to. Following his last change, he had found that if he particularly stuffed himself, he wouldn't need to bother with another meal for a good few days depending on the size of his last meal. This was all well and good save for one fact: He couldn't eat. He undoubtably would sooner or later, just as he had before when he grew hungry enough, but right now, knowing he could last another day... The food just didn't appeal to him. He stared down at the assortment on his plate, willing himself to at least try something. But the food just sat there, growing colder by the second, and eventually Thom just pushed his plate away, sighing and slumping over the table. He was half tempted to request something live from the kitchens... Cassidy slithered in, feeling in a slightly better mood than she'd been in for a while. She'd actually fed the corn snake, so it wasn't going to die and leave her with the question of how she'd ever bring herself to dispose of a dead snake, and named it, and life wasn't really so bad, all considered, or at least that's what she was telling herself.
At any rate, she was hungry, and even if her usual meal warm, raw steak wasn't quite as appealing as it had been, she was definitely not up to a trip into the jungle for something live. Not if she could help it. As she came in, her tongue flickered, out of habit, and she caught a familiar scent, though somewhat... changed, since the last time she'd tasted it. She glanced over at the tables, and for one horrible moment was so petrified with fear that she could not bring herself to move.
Thom had changed.
Cass drew her breath in sharply, reminded herself that she looked much worse, and made herself call, "Thom! Thom, hi."One benefit, if it could be considered such, to being a snake was the absolute silence one could move with. Even given the slight sound of the door opening, Cass was no exception, and when she finally did speak her voice took Thom completely by surprise. His head snapped up to figure out who was calling, now-gold eyes fixing on the python woman. And after a pause, he smiled, straightening up and gesturing for her to join him. Cassidy. Cassidy was a snake too. Surely she had had trouble eating and could offer some advice? Or, just the company would be welcome. Cassidy had made a life for herself on the island even given her changes. If he was going to be stuck here, and going to continue to change...maybe he should do so as well. "'Ey. 'Ow've you been?" Cass swallowed down her fears and slithered over to coil up next to the table. It was Thom, right? Therefore, nothing to worry about, no reason to be afraid. She smiled faintly. "All right, I suppose." She just did not feel like going into her retreat into the jungle. "There's a snake in my room these days. I'll be cured of my fears in no time, if I don't crack. Other than that, I guess I have no new complaints."
She tilted her head slightly. "What about you? You look... you've changed, since I've seen you. Are you doing okay?"Oh, right. She was scared of snakes. He had forgotten. Briefly his smile faltered, but it returned when she joined him at the table. He wasn't...that snakelike yet, after all, save perhaps for his tail and scales, so she could tolerate him and eventually get over it? And by the sound of things, she always was. "Really, now? 'Ow'd you manage that? No offense, but I can't see you catchin' somethin' off the island." It didn't occur to him to ask what kind of snake it was. He didn't even know what kind of snake he was turning in to, nor did he particularly care just yet. A snake was a snake was a snake, and that was that, and he was one. "Mn... Learnin' to tolerate it," he admitted, shrugging slightly. However, he soon grinned, fondly patting the crutch propped against the table at his side. "Could be worse, I s'pose. I don't need a chair." Cass peered at him carefully, not really sure if she was being made fun of or not. "Staff gave it to me," she admitted. "With a tank and everything. Some of the snakes around here might be poisonous, you know."
She nodded, understanding. "I suppose that's a good thing, too," she agreed. She leaned over onto the table, smiling. Oh god. Just don't think of it. He's not a snake. He's an alien. That's much better. "You can sit anywhere." She hesitated, then said, "Is that your second change, if you don't mind me asking? It's... a lot different from how mine was.""Did they?" He raised a brow, surprised by the show of generosity. Or perhaps the staff were trying to scare Cassidy out of her mind. Though, by the woman's reaction to the snake, he doubted that. And he had to admit, though he wasn't what one might call 'happy' here, he was well taken care of. They all were. It was just a matter of requesting whatever they wanted from the staff. "Oh, no, I meant..." Standing was an easy process of simply balancing his weight with his tail while he rose to his feet, and Thom did so, palms flat on the table. "I don't need a wheelchair. Makin' due with a crutch." After a pause, he returned to his seat, nodding. "Second, yes. Is it? How so?" "Oh. I misunderstood." Cassidy could not help but notice that one shorter foot, but it seemed unkind to point it out. "But that's wonderful! A crutch is probably easier than a wheelchair, as far as getting around goes." She hesitated a moment, trying to recall the details of her second change. "My feet were gone entirely," she said. "I had some prosthetic legs, after I got used to them. My tail wasn't as long as yours, either, I don't think." She shook her head in disbelief. "I'd lost my nose, though.""Much," he proudly assured her. Thom had only once been injured to the point that he had needed a wheelchair, and the weeks he had been limited to the evil contraption had been sheer hell. In this situation, he would avoid such a thing at all costs. It was bad enough that he was stuck here forever. Being stuck here and confined to a chair would be unbearable. He listened curiously as she explained her second transformation, nodding slightly once she finished. "Mine's flattened out a bit, t'be 'onest... Let's see... More scales, my 'ands've changed a good deal. Tail's longer, one leg's shorter, an' I've got this...thing on my neck." He grimaced, lifting a hand to the odd formation. "'Aven't th' faintest idea what it is." Cass looked, head tilted. It reminded her of something, but she could not think what it was. Well, to be honest, it reminded her irresistably of Cardassian neck ridges, and she couldn't help but be a little embarrassed that she would think something like that when it had been so long since she'd seen Star Trek.
"It's sort of weird," she said, doubtfully. "But I'm not sure what it would be. I don't have anything like that..."Since his change, the mere thought of the change to his neck had tugged at his mind, hinting that the answer to the clue was just out of reach.. He knew it, he was sure, but the pieces didn't want to fit together. Reptiles were not Thom's strong point. Nor, for that matter, were any other animals, or the Cardassion neck ridges their select features may remind people of. "My thoughts exactly. But you also have feathers. Per'aps they mixed my serum with somethin' as well? There doesn't seem t' be a point t'mine, though." "Could be," Cass said. Reptiles were certainly not her strong suit, either. "But I can't think what. Someone else might know what they are. I'm sorry. I guess I'm not very helpful. And the only people who would really know... well. I don't know if you want to ask them plain."
She shifted a little. "But they're probably not finished, either, whatever they are. Maybe they'll look more like something when they're done.""Eh, no worries." He shrugged, letting his hand fall back to the table. "They don't get in th' way or anythin'. I'm just curious as t' why they're there, that's all." They were utterly pointless to his knowledge. However, if she was correct, and she probably was, their purpose would be discovered once his changes were further along... Oh goody. "Any'oo," he began, changing the subject, "I 'aven't seen you since.. th' football match, per'aps? What've you been up to?" "Not quite that long, but almost." There was a faint flush along the scaleless strip of skin along Cass's face. "I haven't... been up to much. I've been in the jungle. I didn't come out for a long time. I haven't seen a lot of people lately."
She folded her hands on the table, staring at them. Her tongue flickered."Ahh, you're right. I saw you shortly after my first change." He shook his head at his own forgetfulness, smile fading slowly at her quiet reply. "Can't say I've seen many either... Natsumi, mostly. D'you know her? Alec, but that didn't go well... And you. Since my change." Pausing briefly, he searched for a way to end the silence, gaze finally falling on his still-full plate. "...D'you ever 'ave problems eatin' th' cafeteria food?" She shook her head, grimacing slightly in the direction of the table. "I haven't met either. I've been really... antisocial. Bad habit to get into."
Cass did look over at him at last to peer at his meal. That was a familiar problem. "I haven't really been able to chew since my first change," she admitted. "The only thing I ever have around here is steaks and things. And tea or hot chocolate or something, sometimes.""Natsumi's my upstairs neighbor," he explained absently. "Japanese. And Alec's a ruddy little b*****d. Irish." Thom wasn't feeling remotely amiable towards Alec at present. "Ahh..." He grimaced, peering down at his plate. That had never occurred to him before. "I can chew well enough. That's not th' problem. I just...can't eat it. I lierally 'ave t'stuff food down my throat a couple of times a week t'eat at all. It's just... Limited activities." He shrugged his shoulders, smiling. "What d'you eat, then?" "Steak, pork chops, chicken," Cass said, looking embarrassed. "All raw. Or at least so rare it still bleeds. Occassionally sausage, when I need a change." She twisted her fingers together, agitated. This was not something she liked to discuss, and her bashful, nervous tone made this pretty clear. "I try not to eat in front of people, honestly. It's a bit... well, gross. I think so, anyway. I swallow it whole. I used to cut it up into little bits and swallow it that way."Thom nodded, grimacing slightly. Blood...warm blood might do it. Maybe. He doubted it, somehow. But perhaps it would work. "I couldn't swallow somethin' that big whole yet. I nearly choked when I accidently tried somethin' much smaller. Mind, that was after my last change, but I don't think I've changed enough t' risk it yet... " He paused, glancing towards the buffet. He hadn't seen anything that had really won his interest, but then, he hadn't thought rare meat would be the thing to do it, and thus hadn't looked. However, he didn't think he would bother just yet... The thought wasn't very appetizing. What he wanted was something, well... "'Ave you ever considered, ah...anythin' live?" Cassidy was silent for a little while. It was not something she wanted to admit to, but she could hardly lie... "I ate a bird," she admitted at last. "A few weeks ago, I guess. I was really hungry, and it didn't see me, and I didn't even think... just grabbed and squeezed and swallowed." She shook her head. "It was really satisfying, though. I think, on some level, I'd really wanted to do that."He nodded, relaxing a touch. Good, it wasn't just him.. And Cassidy had actually eaten something. He shuddered at the thought, but at the same time the cobra he was becoming danced a little jig. Cassidy had eaten something living, and he was sure many of the other islanders had at least toyed with the idea. So no one would bat an eye if he did the same...as disgusting as the idea was. His stomach growled. Thom facepalmed. "I 'aven't eaten in two days. Give it another couple an' I'll be able t' force this spread down my throat. Nothin' in th' buffet appeals t' me anymore. It 'asn't since my last change." Cass stared at him, glum. "Delia has some little pink baby mice," she said suddenly. "She has them so I can feed Chetter, but I admit that don't look half bad to me. You could always try one of those." She looked at him sideways. "Honestly, I haven't been very keen on this stuff since I ate that bird. I just haven't quite got the nerve up to... go out there, again."Thom grimaced, staring down at the table. Baby mice? Imagine how many of those it would take to make a decent meal. Not to mention they were tiny pink hairless things that he would be eating alive. ...He suddenly felt rather ill. "Per'aps. I'll keep in in mind, thanks. I just 'ave t'find somethin' better than this lot." "Well. She keeps them frozen in the back somewhere, so, they're there." Cass shrugged vaguely. "It probably would be a good, um. Stepping stone, I guess." She shook her head. "But don't rush it. It's... it's a big step to make. You'll figure something out."
The horrible thing was, this entire conversation was making her hungry.Frozen. Ah. The snake in his head grumbled, but Thom brightened up a tad. Frozen might not be so bad. He wouldn't have to kill it. However, on the same note, a frozen pinky was likely to be a rather disturbing site, and Thom's human side alone might shove that option away. Still, he could try. Perhaps later. "A big step indeed... I think on it." The point of no return. Once he ate something live, there went his humanity. Cass smiled. "Well, other than that. Everything's okay for you? You're managing?" She couldn't quite get over that one short leg. She had been thinking before that Thom was lucky, the way he was changing, but that was really sort of disturbing."Well enough." He shrugged and, seeming to read her thoughts, turned on his seat so that the short leg was in plain view, eyeing it warily himself. "Can't do 'alf th' things I'd like to, but I'm gettin' there. It's not a permanent limitation, just somethin' to overcome. An', in a way, it's good for me. Gives me somethin' to occupy m'self." He'd certainly had his time full learning how to manage with the short leg, relearning everything he had once accomplished with ease. It kept him busy, and that kept him from sulking. "Between my crutch an' my tail I manage alright. Yourself?" "I manage," Cass said, shrugging vaguely. "I guess I'm sort of used to it by now." Of course, there was that fabled last injection, still on the horizon, whenever that might come. "And I keep myself busy, best I can. What else is there to do, right?""You 'aven't changed at all since I first met you," he acknowledged, nodding slowly. "An' I've changed twice... Ever think it might be over? That you've hit th' last step?" "I've heard there's four changes," Cass said. She shook her head. "I've had three. Maybe I'm wrong about how many, or..." She trailed off, and touched a finger to her lower lip. Oh, she dreaded it. Maybe it would never happen. She could live like this. It was at least familiar by now. "I don't know. Nothing to do but wait and not think about it.""Four..." He grimaced. Two more changes to look forward to? If he was this different after only two... He shoved the thoughts from his mind, focusing on the here and now rather than worrying about how he may wind up. Cassidy was right. They could only not think about it and move on with what came. "But they don't come as often after a point, correct? I've only been on the island a few months..." Cass stopped to count on her fingers. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, that's right. I think I've been... well, like this for almost half the time I've been here. About... five months since I had legs."
Come to think of it, the anniversary of her arrival was in a few days. Yikes.
"They seem to space them out, though, you're right. I don't know when I'll get this last one. Maybe never?" She shrugged.Good... Good. He didn't have to worry about another transformation for a good long while, by the sounds of it. Maybe by then they'd have found a way off... Thom doubted there was one, personally, but his conversation with Alec had drilled the thought into his mind. Where there was life--or, in this case, time--there was hope. "One can hope," he replied, sighing. "Though with, ah...what's left of your legs, it doesn't quite seem complete. Long in coming, per'aps, but over..?" He doubted it. Thom was fearing Cassidy's next change as much as she was. Possibly more so. Cass looked down, wiggling one leg-stump as she did so, and sighed heavily. "No. Whatever's happening, it's not done. Not yet. But even as I am now, I couldn't go home... I'd die of the cold, for one. I hate to think of what's to come."
She shook her head. "You probably don't really want to hear this, though."Cold... That hadn't even occurred to him. He'd certainly been enjoying the sun since his change, even taking the time to nap on the beach when there was nothing better to occupy him. He'd never thought this was the snake's doing. he had always enjoyed being outside... But the cold. England was dreadfully cold in the winter. Cold and rainy and not at all pleasant; the snake shuddered at the thought, and Thom found himself aching to leave even the cool cafeteria for the beach. "No... I couldn't go back either," he admitted, shooting a glare down at his misshapen leg. However, he chuckled softly, glancing back up at her with a slight shrug. "I'll have t' face it sooner or later. Easier t' move on when it happens if I know it's comin'." She glanced down at his leg as he did, despite her best efforts. It was so strange to think of any aspect of her life these days as "lucky," but that was what was on her mind.
"I suppose you're right." Cass grimaced slightly. Her feathers ruffled with her discomfort. "Maybe I should start preparing myself for the inevitable ordeal."
Ugh. What a horrible thing to have to do."Eh, I don't know." He shook his head, turning back towards the table and glancing to his neglected plate, more out of the need to look at something than of any real interest. "Know that it's comin', but don't dwell on it. It'll only upset you. Just enjoy yourself while you 'ave th' chance." "At least then it would be done. I wouldn't have to worry about it anymore." Cass slumped, trying not to look as miserable as she felt. "But it might be a long way off. No need to dwell on it for either of us." She forced a smile."Sorry for bringin' it up," he murmured apologetically, looking up. The future was grim for both of them. Might as well enjoy the time they had left with their humanity. "I give up," he muttered, climbing to his feet--or foot, rather--and gathering up his plate. "I'll try to eat t'morrow. Goin' to 'ead to th' beach. Care t' join me?" Cass stretched a little, and straightened. "I'd love to... but not today. I'm trying to be at least a little productive." Which was not exactly true, but it sometimes got a bit hard looking another giant snake in the eye. "You go ahead without me. I'll see you around.""Ahh, I see." Productive? ...Well, he would take her word for it. "Good seein' you, then." Nodding a goodbye, he reached for his crutch and, positioning it under his left arm and carrying the plate with his right, made his way first to the trash to dispose of it, then out the door, awkwardly working his way towards the beach. The cafeteria was a bit too cool for his liking. It was time for a long nap on the sands.
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Posted: Sun Aug 27, 2006 9:38 pm
Sabin's Pet
Meeting Zach Walking was gradually coming easier to the cobra man. His days since the change had been filled with his own type of physical therapy--basically, spending hours of the day 'walking' around the village and jungle, over the most challenging landscapes he could find. But it was working. His left leg now remained almost permanently cocked up out of the way while his tail replaced it, moving along in a slithering fashion and supporting his weight while his good foot took a step. However, it had become quite clear that, even with so much improvent, the aid of the crutch was absolutely necessary if he wanted to get around. While he could get around with it, the pace was only a slow walk. Should he have to move more quickly for any reason, the crutch would be needed. Also, he still easily overbalanced, stumbling and such, and quite likely would have fallen a number of times had not the crutch been there to save him. And so he endured it and, indeed, had grown so used to it that he hardly noticed it for the most part. It was there, and he hated that he needed it, but if he didn't focus on it, it might as well be gone. The first step was complete. Walking: Check. Today, he was attempting the next. Thom had retreated to the clear area of the village that had been home to the island's first soccer match to reinact said soccer match. That is to say, he was trying to determine whether any of his old skills had survived the change and weeks without practice following it. As far as he could tell... they hadn't. He stared miserably down at his soccer ball, briefly shifting his weight against the crutch to give it a little kick. He couldn't move right. How was he supposed to dribble a soccer ball with one leg? The smell of clean-cut grass was a nice one, reminescant of urban civilization. It had none of that heavy, tropical sting to it. His nose was too sore for that. It had gone and bled that morning when he'd banged it against the bathroom mirror trying to brush teeth that were far out of their normal alignment. Even if it was wet, he didn't mind. Just being able to relax was ebbing some of the transformation pain away.
Slow rustling in the grass alerted him to another presence. He peered out from under the brim of his slightly mangled hat. Terror crossed his face, hypocritical as it was. His humanity couldn't help it - that thing... that man... he was like some slithering nightmarish creature. He'd hardly seen worse since, well, the time he'd found Cassidy lounging on the beach missing a good chunk of her previous appearance.
And, perhaps it was just something about the pouch-rimmed face, but he looked an awful lot like the guy Rex had been all over in the cafeteria. Helfting his crutch, Thom paced after the soccer ball, giving it another lazy kick upon reaching it. Kick. Kick. Attempt to dribble. His leg might as well have been laughing at him, bloody useless thing. Scowling, Thom gave the ball a hard punt, sending it soaring off across the clean-cut lawn. Maybe he would retrieve it later.
Turning abruptly as if Zach had shouted a greeting, he glanced over at the horror-stricken dragon man, a nearly identical expression crossing his own face a split second later. Of all the people he had seen on the island, this one was by far the strangest (excluding perhaps Cassidy, but he was used to her by now). This creature resembled no living creature Thom had ever seen in his life, twisted and misshapen and...red? And scaled. But this man had retained his legs.
Thom cleared his throat, forcing the expression from his face, and offered a slight wave in greeting. He wasn't about to approach this...thing. He had heard some of the islanders were dangerous. Judging by appearances, he didn't doubt in the least that Zach was one of them. He allowed himself a second inspection of the stranger and promptly tensed, eyes narrowing in a glare as the tophat on Zach's head registered. Fear and common sense flew out the window, and Thom crutched his way towards the stranger, sneering. "Sabin's pet, are you?" He tried to wipe the fearful, disgusted expression off his face as fast as he could, once he saw that the reptilian thing considered him to be worthy of the same. He'd been spotted. Not that being red where everything was green was going do much to hide him.
When the other man started coming at him, he immediately dove for the safety of instincts. Teeth were bared despite the pain of clenching them together, frill out, and wings open, almost without realizing it. It was a shoddy display, all in all, but it gave him time to scoot back until he could scramble to his feet. He wavered a little.
Pet. It practically stung to hear it said aloud. And it wasn't true at all! Really. He flexed his fingers a little, claws itching to slash. He couldn't lose it, though. His life was at stake. It didn't make him feel any less bitter at the accusation, though. He took a deep breath. Grass. The smell of grass. He had to hang onto that.
He twisted his grimace into a forced grin. "Oh, what gave me away?" Thom's step faltered only briefly at the fearsome show--shoddy or not, the sight of a near-dragon puffing up and baring fangs was enough to make anyone's blood run cold. Nonetheless, just as quickly he continued forward, the cobra assuring him it was a just a show, an attempt by prey to seem too big for dinner.
His paced slowed as he neared the dragon man, though he only paused once he was a couple of feet from Zach, glare remaining as he contemplated the man. Sarcasm? Was that sarcasm? And was that a smile or a snarl? That damned, horribly, mocking hat...
Thom shrugged calmly and, shifting to stand correctly, passed his crutch to his right hand. He hefted it thoughtfully, watching Zach for a moment longer as if about to explain some elaborate insight, then swiped the make-shift weapon down at the dragon man's head, targeting the hat directly between his horns. "The ******** are you--!" His concentration was focused so inwardly that he could hardly react to the graceful arc of the crutch. It caught the side of his hat and crushed it, colliding with the base of one of his horns and knocking him off his already tentative balance. The hat was irreparably ruined. Mental barriers were snapped. He snarled as he fell, splaying his hands, and bounced back up to sink his teeth into --
CLANG.
The growling and flying spit ended abruptly with his teeth scrabbling against a smooth metal surface. He released the handle of the crutch with a gurgling screech, cupping his snout between his hands. He tasted blood. CLANG.
Following his attack on the hat, Thom hadn't had time to draw back the crutch before Zach reacted. This, combined with the short distance between him, saved his arm from an untimely demise. It wouldn't do for him to have one working and leg. Rather unnerved, but hiding it fairly easily with the knowledge that the hat was dead, he drew back the crutch and positioned it beneath his left arm once more, nonetheless taking a small step back from Zach.
"Mn. Call it instinct." That was a viable excuse. Everyone knew cobras hated tophats. "Ah, god! What ith your problem?" He slumped down on his knees in the grass, cradling his maw. Pain shot through every recently-shifted tooth in bursts. The bruise forming under his destroyed hat went unnoticed.
"Oh, inssstinct," he grumbled in a mocking tone, massaging the many sides of his mouth. His several feet of tail tail slashed through the grass. He glared up at the man looming in front of him. "I gueth no one mentioned to you that anyone becoming a reptile goesss bald!"
He proceeded to look over at a very interesting spot of grass way off to the right of the man he was addressing. "'Sssides, it was jutht a hat." The stranger spoke, fell to his knees. Briefly, but only briefly, Thom felt a tad guilty over injuring the dragon man's mouth. But between the jab at his own receding hairline and Zach's speech impediment, any apologetic feelings flew out the window.
Indeed, before he knew it, Thom was laughing. Turning his back to Zach, he began crutching his way across the lawn after his soccer ball, shouting to no one in particular through his laughter. "I'm stuck on an' island in th' middle of nowhere, turnin' into a snake, talkin' to a dragon with a lisp wearin' a top hat!" Surely he had gone mad. "Hey!" Zach stopped his pitiful display when the other man lost interest and walked away - but the statement he made between his laughs was downright insulting. He clambered back up onto his feet, his tail moving slightly to balance out his odd distribution of weight. "HEY!" This wasn't over yet!
He charged after the snake-man. It wasn't long before he'd caught up with him. He eyed the crutch before snarling a retort, crossing his arms casually, as though he were the least bizarre sight on the island. "You know, I think whoever picked your animal made the right choissse. Ssslithering on your thtomach the retht of your life, it probably won't be much different from what you're uthed to." Thom ignored the shouts, far too busy laughing to heed Zach's calls, and simply continued across the lawn. Step, crutch, step; he graced Zach with a glance out of the corner of his eye when the dragon man caught up with him, though by then his laughter had died down, and instead he settled for a soft snicker at Zach's expense. The memory of the man's speech impediment was still fresh in his mind, and, as Zach looked like he was about to speak, Thom was all too sure he could expect further hissing and spitting.
However, when the words did come, they struck a nerve. Thom was already more than a bit strained, not at all thinking clearly, and it was the work of a moment for Zach's words to welcome to cobra to the situation. He pivoted on his tail to face Zach, moving with surprising ease despite his malformed leg, and hissed a warning, the half-hood on his neck flaring to its greatest extent. STRIKE!, the snake demanded, but in doing so Thom stumbled, overbalancing and remaining standing only by catching himself with his crutch.
The brief falter and reminder of humanity gave Thom the moment he needed to push the snake to the back of his mind, but the cobra was still present enough to have him baring nonexistant fangs, tail coiling up to propel him into a second strike should the need arise. "An' what d' you know of it?" he snarled, shaking a fist at the dragon man. "Right choice? Used to?! I'm used to playin' football on a daily basis. I'm use to 'avin millions an' travelin' around th' world t' risk my neck for a laugh. D'you 'ave any idea 'ow bloody sadistic it is t' take a man's legs when 'e relies on them most? Do you?!" After the crushing blow from the crutch, he'd been expecting some sort of quick move from the human cobra. He dodged sideways and dug his toes into the grass, whipping his tail around to keep himself from falling over completely. His wings were open again, ready to perform the impossible task of flying to safety. He waited, tensed, but there was no further strikes.
"A sssportsss thtar and a millionaire? Hah. I wouldn't have guesssed from the way you jutht up and attacked me." Zach turned his nose up, an easy gesture with one as prominent as his. Lying had becoming a valuable resource, sole protector of his sanity. There was hypocrisy oozing from every word, and he knew it. But it felt so good to lash out at someone. And here was a yellow and black serpent scapegoat to represent everyone who'd ever crossed him during his months on the island! He uncrossed his arms and took a step back.
"But that'th exsssactly it! That'th life! Don't exssspect to keep anything if you need it." He grinned, waving his left hand out. Covered in blood red scales, and beyond the hand it had practically no signs of human qualities to it at all. "I know enough about lothing valuable limbsss - like my arm." "People change," he hissed, the implied double meaning more than obvious. The snake was getting to him, he reluctantly admitted. Aside form the numerous physical changes, he was much more prone to sudden outbursts. The smallest threat to his stable surroundings unnerved him, made him irritable and likely to lash out at the least provocation. The cobra wanted its jungle, wanted the warm sand of the beachor the quiet of the trees. It wanted solitude.
Standing out in the open and arguing with a dragon man were not on the cobra's list of good activities. Gold eyes narrowed in a glare and he took a step towards Zach, barely managing to refrain from hitting him with the crutch again. "You 'aven't lost y' ruddy arm, man!" Or if he had at one point, he certainly had one now, so he had no room to complain. Besides, Thom would gladly have given up an arm if it meant keeping his legs. He could make due being one arm short. You didn't need arms to play football. "They do," he conceded, stepping back several steps this time and unconsciously crouching. His grin was reduced to merely a smile, lips stretched tightly over his teeth. Bizarre needs crossed his mind. He had to find a tree. Or some water. Or a cave. Those places felt safer than an open field of grass.
"Ten yearsss ago, I did. It... grew back." He shifted backward even more, uneasily. That arm had been nothing but trouble. He switched the subject back to the cobra.
"We're here for the rest of our lives! There'sss no going back. People have tried. You'll have to get uthed to it. But it'th not going to be that bad without legsss. And Cathidy geth around, doesssn't she?" While Zach's retreat served as a little ego boost to the cobra, the snake was also pleased simply to have its own spaced once more, and thus quite content to allow the space between them, though his hood remained flared and his glare did not fade. Nonetheless, with the threat past, he allowed himself to relax, tone more mocking than angry.
"It grew back, did it? Well there, that corrupts your entire argument. You were an' unsuccessful, one-armed invalid b'fore the island, an' now you've grown a new arm, 'ave all your needs taken are of, an' can probably get away with anythin' because you're Sabin's pet." His eyes briefly flickered up to the crushed top hat, and he chuckled bitterly. "Pardon me for havin' a life t' miss." He started to open his mouth to say something biting, but stopped. A look of calculation came into his eyes as he glared at the cobra, but he said nothing. He was certainly interested in preserving his own life, as he'd always been. Being alive was something he would miss rather a lot. It had been six months, the docotr renowned for his cruelty to pretty much everyone else had been quite the opposite, and getting back to any sort of mainland, even if possible, would condemn him only to further inhuman treatment. In various degrees he'd accepted his fate, but only now did it make sense not only to accept it, but use it as well.
He tilted his head downward and wrenched the former hat off of his horns. He'd suspected damage, and indeed the crutch had smashed it practically flat. It exposed his bald, scale-strewn head, but he'd get a new hat soon. Plus, he wouldn't be the only bald reptile with this bitter individual around. After turning it around a couple of times in his clawed fingers and looking annoyed, he chucked it like a frisbee, aiming for the other man's face.
"Winning thith argument won't get you your legsss back," he smirked. Unwittingly, he'd begun parroting things he'd been told before, possible fiction that had cemented to fact in his mind. "Even if you could go back, what then? You'd be... thisss... the retht of your life. And judging by that crutch, your 'football' daysss are already over."His right hand leapt up to prevent the hat from hitting his face, snatching it out of the air before it could reach him. Shifting to lean against the crutch and free his arm, he inspected the crushed hat as Zach had, a look of smug satisfaction spreading across his face. Finally, pleased by his destruction of the garment, he popped the still-flattened hat onto his own head, left hand falling back to his crutch.
"No, it won't," he agreed thoughtfully, pretending to consider Zach's words. "Nor will it win me my old life. However," and he paused, flashing a grin. "It will win me the argument, which is more than you can claim." And, turning, he started back towards the duplexes. He rolled his eyes, still angry. What was an argument worth? Nothing but emotional investment. He'd let the snake guy think he'd won something. Zach felt he'd gained an interesting bit of insight from the guy.
After the cobra was out of sight, he lowered himself back down to the grass. He just wanted to lie there for a while. It wasn't like he had anything better to do... except see about getting a replacement hat. They weren't going to last too long here.
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Posted: Wed Aug 30, 2006 6:25 pm
The Yellow Brick Road
The Tin Man strikes again! Natsumi had a bit ago stopped her full out run away from the new area of duplexes. Her face was red and stained with tears from the bit of crying that had excaped her... Her breath was heavy, having lost it in the mixture of running and sobbing. She'd felt like crying as it was before finding out the one guy she loved thought she was a slut.
And she still wasn't sure what to think about that. It both crushed and enfuriated her. He HAD promised... HE was the one that talked her into it, didn't that make him the slut? Or... whatever the word for men was.
Despite that, it was the word she'd been fearing the whole time she was pregnant... This wasn't right at all. None of it! She was supposed to be in America, translating anything other than hentai, have a husband and be well on the way to having a healthy child. But no. She was a slutty, childless, lizard.
Another sob slipped past her lips as she turned on the last path back to her duplex. Almost there... Her arms wrapped around her all too empty abdomen. Thom was on his way back to his own duplex after his encounter in the village with Zach. Surprisingly, or perhaps not so considering he had come out ahead, he was in an excellent mood, even chuckling softly to himself as he crutched along, the flattened top hat set upon his head. He was nearly to the duplex now, on his way indoors for a cool nap while the sun was highest before escaping to the beach for a few hours later that afternoon.
However, he fell silent at the sound of someone approaching, but only quickened his pace when he recognized Natsumi coming from the opposite direction, heading for the same destination. Not that 'quickened' meant much when one leg was toe-less, one was a crutch, and he was dragging a heavy tail behind himself. "Natsumi! Wait f'me at th' stairs!" She slowed as she got closer to the safe haven of her home, however a voice stopped her. A familiar one. She felt a wave of comfort just from hearing it... Thomas protected her. And her childish hurt mind decided he would fix everything... Like the times of her childhood when her brothers would fix a scraped knee or something of the sort.
She automatically spun around, various changes would soon become noticable.. Her large webbed feet for one. But the biggest change was the missing sweater and flat stomach. She waited for him as he said, attempting to whipe away the tears on her face only to have them be replaced by a few more. He flashed a grin when she paused to wait for him, though the look quickly faded as he neared enough to notice the changes. Mind, the first difference was the red of her eyes and the few stray tears, which on their own were enough to worry him, but a second, more thorough inspection quickly revealed the further visible changes, including her flattened stomach.
He paused in step a short distance away, completely at a loss for how to react or what to say. Finally, sighing, he gestured her towards his own door, crutching the rest of the way towards her. He looped his free arm around her shoulders, drawing her into a brief hug, then steered her towards the door. "C'mon, inside. ...A lot's happened since I've last seen you, I'd imagine?"She waited, fidgeting, sniffling, and even giving a soft sob here and there while he took the long trek towards her. She bit into her lip and locked her eyes to the ground when he paused... but soon enough he was at her side giving her a half a hug and inviting her into his duplex.
Part of her was releived and reassured... Another part, int eh back of her mind, was mildly spooked. She had felt her heartrate increase as he neared her, and only more now when his arm came around her. She had no idea why, but it felt like he was going to attack her...
Her human mind recycled that as verbal attacking, like Taro recently, and attempted to shove the thought away. And as she stepped into the duplex with him, she started talking... feeling unable to stop it as the days, or weeks, stresses started pouring out of her mouth.
Starting with the earliest. "He called me a.. a.." Her mind failed at a translation for the exact word Taro had used... She never thought she'd need to use the word slut. "Darashinai Onna." She frowned, knowing Thom wouldn't understand she tried to continue as the tears started foreward again, though mildly considering all the crying she'd been doing lately. Who knew one insult could hurt so much? "A woman that is... loose?" somehow that didn't seem to fit just right. But she hardly cared right now. "I am not." She stated pitifully, before going back even further on the day. Back to the reason why she had even left her duplex... To try and distract herself from reality again with the company and comfort of a friend...
The next thought seemed to break the emotional dam again, while she'd started crying over the last one she started bawling now. Turning to latch herself on the comforting body next to her in a hug, burrying her face in his shoulder. "It--was su--supo--possed to--be--in--december..." she tried to explain muffled and broken through sobs.
Her head was spinning with thoughts again. Taro's words, the baby... was it really better this way? Or had she just destroyed a potential life like her mind kept telling her? And a mixed feeling of not wanting to be out of Thom's comfort... but something in the back of her mind fearing being so close to him. It was all so overwhelming. He guided her inside, pausing just long enough to close the door behind them before continuing towards the bed. Releasing her, he sunk down on the edge and propped the crutch against the bed at his side, patting the space beside himself for her to join him ever as she began speaking.
Thom listened in silence while she explained, frown deepening to one of anger at her tale. He? Who was 'he'? Though she hadn't said, he had a good idea, especially when Japanese words were her explanation of the derogatory term 'he' had used. Making a mental note to have a talk with this 'he', he began to reassure her when the story grew worse.
And then Natsumi was sobbing and hugging him and whimpering something about December, and Thom was completely at a loss for how to correctly respond in such a situation. Somewhat awkwardly he returned the hug, heart sinking into his stomach. So he had guessed correctly: She had lost the baby. Sighing once more, he made himself relax and attempted to organize his thoughts. Meanwhile, he allowed her simply to cry, offering some comfort by rubbing her back or petting her hair, or so on and so forth.
Finally, when her sobs seemed to be fading, he gently pried her away enough to glance down at her, offering a weak smile. "Firstly, we both know whatsisface is in denial, far from mature, and quite likely lashin' out at people for bein' stuck on this damned island. We also know that you, Natsumi, are most certainly not, ah.. that d word that I would certainly mangle if I dared attempt. Chin up, don't let him get t' you, alright? He'll realize his mistake in time." Meaning, as soon as Thom got in trouch with him.
"Secondly," but he hesitated. What could be said? Was there anything that could be said? Thom had never known a woman who had miscarried before the island. He had never known a woman who had been pregnant period, excluding perhaps his aunt when he was younger. Life had just worked out that way. And now this? "...All I can say is I'm sorry. I'm sorry for your loss, I'm sorry you 'ave t' go through this... I suppose th' best you can do is be grateful th' child does not 'ave to as well." Her crying died down as he simply held her, offering comforting touches and the like. She could have stayed there forever... Or atleast it had felt that way. It was a tad less awkward than hugging Newt... Thom just felt more.. confidant about the whole issue. But it wasn't hard to beat Newt at confidance... That and she hadn't been ribbited at this time, amusing as it was.
She wasn't really thinking about that though, her mind was still trying to figure out those thoughts that were fighting for dominance of her brain. That was broken when he pulled her away from him, to which she went easily giving a small sniffle. She listened almost questly, a little sniffle or squeak here and there... Thom was right though. Taro was anything but mature, and he was quite prone to lashing out at people... Of course it had never been her before. Not like that anyways.
Her lip trembled at the second part, not breaking eyecontact as she waited... What came wasn't nearly as harmful as her doubtful mind had expected. "S..So... You think..." She made another squeak as she tried to hold back her tears long enough to actually say something. "It is better? Maybe?" She continued to frown... however a bit of hopefulness shown through all that at the idea that the child was better off away from this place. It had been the only thought that had kept her atleast a little bit sane through her time in the labs, and hearing it from another person made it seem all that more reasonable. Again he hesitated, carefully considering his words before speaking. "I would never...say that it is good that you lost th' baby, Natsumi. But this island... The island can be dangerous even for the adults 'ere. Better this than somethin' more painful later on, right..? Or bein' taken by th' labs?" It was a hard argument to make, a rough subject to talk about at all, but it was the best he could do. It wasn't Natsumi's fault the child had died, nor did he want her lamenting over what might have been and longer than absolutely necessary. The island was no place for a baby, but it was still a hard loss to bear. Natsumi nodded... It made sense. Which helped, her mind felt so muddled she couldn't think clearly anymore. Her eyes breifly trailed over the black forboding scales... For some reasonthey kept jumping otue very time she looked at them. She knew she had been uncomfortable about hte whole snake thing but.. it hadn't been this bad before had it?
Eventually her eyes ended up back on the bed they were sitting on, giving another sniff before pulling her hand away from Thom to whipe at her eyes again, noting just how horrible she probably looked from the "busy" day she'd had. "Thankyou..." she quickly added in as she fussed, seeming to have stopped crying for the most part by now.Meanwhile, Newt had spent the entire morning slaving away as he used that misused brain of his to come up with a rather exciting picnic lunch he packed in a basket he had borrowed form the cafeteria. Dragging it behind him as he hopped, it was rather difficult to catch himself in a landing with the large burden of their meal. Enough that by the time he had reached Natsumi's duplex, he had tripped over his own feet and tumbled into the downstairs entrance's door in a heap of froggish limbs and basket.
He was wearing his cleanest jumper that day on top of the nicest outfit Aubrey had given him, including the white suit shirt and black tie, the jumper unbuttoned just enough to see the collar. What was left of his hair was combed in a mad attempt to tame it, which left it looking greasy and plastered to his head, but at least tidier than usual. He had also collected a half decayed boquette of long stemmed fruit covered in maggots and beatles he had prepaired as a boquet. This lay scattered about his chest and the front step as he landed. Thom managed a smile when his words seemed to have some positive effect, at least, and allowed himself to relax once more. Good. That was over. Natsumi wasn't happy, persay, but she would be alright. "Mn. Glad I could help," he assured her, giving her a comforting pat on the shoulder.
And then there was a loud thud outside his door, and Thom looked over, briefly losing interest in the woman. That hadn't been a knock. What was going on? His thoughts immediately went to the recently passed meeting with Zach and his smile faded, eyes narrowing and hood flaring a fraction simply out of caution. Without a second thought, he retrieved his crutch and climbed to his feet, making his way over to the door. He cracked it, peeking out before pulling it open completely at the sight of the crumpled frog-man--in the same motion, opening the way for a clear sight of Natsumi perched on his bed, and vice versa. Thom quirked a brow, relaxing somewhat, though his frown remained. "Problem?" The reassuring peaceful moment was abruptly interupted by a loud thump against the door. It didn't sound like a knock... But... Hopefully no one was hurt.
And hopefully it wasn't Taro... it didn't take a genious to figure out he hadn't taken to Thom, and if Thom was right-Which Natsumi was sure he was, God only knew what Taro'd think about doing just to let off steam.
Natsumi tensed visably as the hood flared out, while something did reason the hood flare wasn't exactly made for eating her... It just reminded that gecko in her mind all the more what the Cobra-man was capable of. Though that didn't turn into cohernt thoughts, and just left the Japanese woman confused as to why her heart was in her throat and she was thinking about ducking under Thom's covers.
She distracted herself with following Thom's movements to the door, letting out a sigh of releif when it wasn't someone dangerous... But harmless little Newton. Upon reconizing that, she moved up off the bed, following Thom's tracks to the door to offer Newton a slightly teary-eyed smile. "Are you alright...?" Newt caught a glimpse of Natsumi for a breif, blessed moment befor the frog spotted the snake, and instinct kicked in, the man scrambling backward in horror, his throat puffing out as he tried to make himself look bigger. "Ah! Aaah! Ah duh-don't... d-don't!" He managed, scrambling back away from him in terror and finally tripped over his own basket. Now really, he wasn't that terrifying! Thom's frown deepened, hood angrily flaring to its full extent, which really wasn't much further. Briefly, the cobra piped up in his head, recognizing the floundering creature as food--and an easy catch at that, judging by it's state. However, Thom shoved the thoughts aside on the grounds that he couldn't possibly eat something the side of a human and that Natsumi seemed to know this frog man.
Ah, Natsumi knew him. Scowling, Thom backed away a few paces, then turned and stormed back towards the bed--as much as one can storm with a crutch--waving Natsumi further out. "You know 'im, you deal with 'im. I'm not goin' to eat 'im, ruddy idiot..." Mumblemumble. Natsumi's eyes widened as Newton promptly fell back. She wasn't sure who to feel sorry for in that moment, Thomas for invoking such a fearful reaction.. Or Newton for being so afraid.
She shifted awkwardly, moving out of Thom's way as he retreated back into the duplex... her heart had picked up a bit more when his flare came out, but it was mostly ignored since he wasn't focused on her but some other prey object.
Eat him? Had Newton even claimed that he was going to eat him? And more importantly... why on earth would Thomas eat Newton? Either way... she took a step out of the door.. All the action and excitment ridding whatever was left of her thoughts from earlier. "Newton?" She questioned to the man on the ground. "Are you alright?" she repeated her earlier question. "Mah-mah-mah-miss Natsumi!" Newt managed to squeak, giving a sudden loud croak, his throat inflating again at the sight of her, leaving him looking rather embarassed once again befor continueing to babble, "Wuh-wuh-wuh-what are... are y-you... th-there's a snuh-snuh-sn-sn-snoo... There's a snuh-ssss-snuh...!"Clearly sarcasm evaded Natsumi. Mind, Thom was only half sarcastic. He hadn't a doubt in his mind that the frog man was scared of becoming dinner, especially after the snake in his head had suggested the same thing. But while he had lashed out at, say, Emelyn's dog, or tried to swallow the hamburger chunk without thinking, he was still quite human enough to know that Newt was absolutely impossible as dinner, and therefore of no interest to him.
Indeed, he was quickly growing irritated with the entire situation. It was bad enough that someone was utterly terrified of him on sight--even worse when said person was sitting in a heap outside his door and stuttering his head off. He never even made it to the bed before he turned around and headed back to the door, pausing just behind Natsumi and leering over her shoulder at the frog man. "A snake?" Natsumi had never quite caught on to english sarcasm. It wasn't that she was just completely dense... Get her talking in Japanese and she might pull out the same sorts of jokes, however with the moment they were in she had lost most sensible reasoning. She was near tears for the most part, and Newton had started floundering on the ground... her head was spinning again. So, first task... Calm Newton down.
Then Thomas was back... behind her, causing a light chill to run down her spine. "Aa.." She quickly piped in, not wanting Newton to somehow offend Thomas. That was ignoring the fact he probably already had. "Newton, this is Thomas." She gestured back behind her, giving a light sniff as she introduced them... Maybe that would stop the whole 'ahh its a snake' thing? "Ah... ah..." Newt glanced back and forth between the little gecko girl and the disgrunteled snake man, and his stomach fell. Not ebcause instinct told him that this man wanted to eat him, but that he had inadvertantly stumbled upon Natsumi and.... another man. His throat suddenly bulged out, inflated as wide as he could manage without suffocating himself befor giving a startlingly loud croak as though the frog in him was trying to scare the other potential mate away.
The Newt in him was far easier to thwart, "I... I... I huh-hadn't... excuse me... " He appologized for his croak, looking terrified and embarassed. He hadn't been aware that she- had a boyfriend... well, of course... she had been pregnant. She had to have had a partner.... was it this man? Was it someone befor the island? Either way, Newt was suddenly sickeningly embarassed, and tried to pick up his basket and collect the "boquet" he had brought for her befor either of them could spot them. He suddenly wished he hadn't gone to so much trouble to try to look nice either- it would only make matters worse if this "Thomas" was the jealous type. Thom couldn't honestly say it was a pleasure to meet the frog man, and so he didn't, simply nodding a greeting when Natsumi introduced him. Newton, Newton... He couldn't remember her mentioning a 'Newton'. Of course, on the same note, the only people she had mentioned had been the ones who terrified or upset her, so it was no surprise. This man seemed nice enough, if, well, terribly irritating. Natsumi was a much more patient person than he was, and the frog man wasn't scared of her, so it made sense that she could befriend him. Thom was just glad that Newt wasn't freaking out anymore.
And yet the stuttering continued, and the frog man was scrambling around once more. Thom was very tempted to just go hide in his duplex and let them talk. Even moreso when he noticed the maggot 'boquet' and nice clothes beneath the jumpsuit. Really, he was hard pressed not to laugh at the sight once two and two registered. However, for Natsumi's benefit, he settled for a grin, glancing down to the gecko girl and nudging her with his elbow. "Why Nasumi, I'm shocked. 'Ere you've been cheatin' on me all this time." Natsumi, on the other hand, apparently wasn't good at math. It wasn't that she hadn't noticed how nervious he was... It was just that he was always nervious. In fact, this reaction reminded her a bit of the first time she'd met Newton... Except he'd been shoving on a gas mask then and wasn't quite this green and slimey.
Now that he seemed to compose himself she noticed the various objects he had, her nostrils catching the oh so fonderful scent of rotting food... it reminded the rest of her brain that there were other things that would have been on such a smelly thing, which in turned caused a little growl from her stomach, reminding her she hadn't eaten yet. Then she remembered something... "Aa! Lunch...!" her smile widened on the simple fact he had remembered and apparently gone through alot of trouble... Originally she had meant they could get something from the cafeteria, or eat some of the bugs she'd caught in that wierd thing he gave her. Either way, this was a nice turn to a day that had started out rather rough...
She jumped some as she was nudged, turning back to look at Thom in a rather confused manor. Crap... She missed something. What he said hadn't made any sense to her at all... Her mind tried to turn the gears and place what cheating meant in this situation. Was he talkign about football? That was the only game she'd ever played with him... And why would that come up now? So that definatly wasn't right.
Still she wasn't getting anywhere with that thought process... Which left her staring at Thom lost and confused, before finally giving a soft "Eh?" as she figured she wasn't going to get this one. "Chuh-chuh-chuh-cheat?" Newt's voice cracked pubescently as his expression fell. If he had been able, he woudl have been a bright scarlet as he dropped the buggy boguet again, hugging the basket to his chest, "I... I... I... I'm suh-sorry... I... I... I had... I wuh-was j-just... I'll... " He placed it down, turning to suddenly hop away in utter embarassment. She had a boyfriend!! How stupid was he? Stupid stupid stupid Newt! Well, that had completely backfired. Thom raised a hand to rub his temple, shaking his head slightly in dismay. And then Newt was off and, rather than risk ruining Natsumi's stay on the island permanently, Thom was around the gecko girl and crutching after him. Between Newt's ungainly hops and his own strange gait, they were quite a sight--but it also meant Thom didn't have much trouble catching up.
Once he neared, he reached out and caught Newt's arm with his right hand, laughing to keep the frog man from spazzing out again. "I was jokin', lad. Natsumi's just 'ad a rough day, an' I was cheerin' her up. Go pick up your bunch of maggots." Not that he could understand for the life of him why someone would give someone they liked maggots. Natsumi blinked as the reinvented boquet hit the ground, poor thing was taking quite a beating. She hadn't quiet figured out what it was supposed to be yet... But before she could think about it Newt was suddenlly leaving and she had no idea why. "Wai--" she barely managed the start of the word before Thom had moved after him. Yep.. she was lost. The metaphorical fog of the language barrier had settled in on her... So she simply stood there, confused. But atleast she'd forgotten all about crying nad the like...
As Thomas caught Newton she thought about following after just to keep that paniced frog thing from happening again. Her eyes were caught by a wiggling along the ground where the little maggots had fallen from their precious food. Her tail shifted as she found herself staring... And then, before she knew it, instinct and hunger had driven her to kneel down to pick up a few of them, place them in her palm, and proceed to tilt her head back and drop them in her mouth as though they were candy. "I duh-duh-duh-didn't muh-mean any harm!" Newt cried, "I wuh-was j-just... I d-duh-didn't know! I'msuh-sorry!" The janitor squeeked, trying to pull away in his panic. "Calm down," Thom ordered, growing impatient once more. He kept a tight hold on Newt's arm with his right hand, but he half turned to shout over at the gecko girl. "Natsumi! Kindly explain t' your friend that you an' I are not in a relationship." She was snapped out of her little instinct driven maggot feast by Thom's irritated voice. She nearly fell over as she jumped up and away from the bugs in a guilty fasion... "Relationship?" She echoed, the gears turning... Her face flushed amongst the already reddish scales. "Eehh?" she squeaked out, covering her mouth to prevent any further noises.
Suddenlly, she realized just how wrong it looked to have been setting on Thomas' bed in his duplex... However, the thought of that just seemed... Wierd. "No, no.." she shook her head to further that answere. "Thomas is my friend." she emphisized the word to make sure he knew that meant nothing more... Even if she had been on his bed. Several times. And he was attractive in a sort... It didn't seem right though, it was like someone suggesting she was with Haruko or Jiro.
She started weaving her way around the fallen boquet, not wanting to squish any potential meal bits, and starting towards the two. "Why?" she asked a bit softly, wondering where on earth that had come in. Newt glanced up from where he hung from Thom's grip, his previously neatly groomed hair springing free from it's gelatinous prison to curl in it's thinned out but still maddened sloppy state. His tie had come loose from his jumper to hang free, and he was dirty as ever from his hopping, "Ah- fruh-fruh-friends?" He suddenly felt rediculous, embarassment burning on his froggish cheaks as much as a frog *could* blush. "I... I... I ah... I... Oooh." With Newt actually calm and listening, Thom released the frog man, rolling his eyes at the whole spectacle. Deciding things would go much better if he just left them to their own conversation, he turned his attention to the approaching Natsumi. "I'll leave you two t' chat, then. Where's whatsisface's duplex, Natsumi? Taro?" She let the why drop, assuming she had asked it too softly... Her mind tried to taunt her with the fact someone might be interested in her, but she pushed that away. Who would after all these lizardy-changes? And especially since she'd been pregnant... That fact alone made her feel like she didn't deserve to have another love-intrest.
She pushed those thoughts aside for the time being, "Aa... Alright... Taro? 53.." she answered before fully thinking about why Thom would need that. She turned back to Newton, offering a small smile... "Aa... We will have our lunch, then?" Hm. What an eventful exciting day... Newt stared down at his webbed feet wide-eyed, his heart racing. The snake man Thomas wouldn't come back to beat him up, would he? "I... I... I'll j-just... I j-just... um..." He swallowed, trying to calm himself further so he could speak again. "I'm s-sorry... I... I... had th-thought..." He suddenly reached up, trying to flatten his hair again and straighten his tie to make himself more presentable. "I... ah... th-thought w-we could go for a puh-puh-picnic..." 53. Good, not far. He nodded, bid them goodbye with a wave, then started away with his crutch to have a little chat of his own with Taro. Taro Hirohito T aro woke up from dreams of heat and sun in a cold sweat. The moment he opened his eyes he noticed how dry they felt, like when you're too dehydrated. Second was the horrible cold and ache, his muscles felt cramped and shivery.
He groaned deeply, curling up on himself as he lay in bed, wrapping his arms about his stomach. He was sick? Goddamnit, hadn't he gotten that ******** hassle of an injection to prevent this!? He rolled slightly, trying to sit up, limbs feeling heavy and stiff. He shivered violently, groggily struggling to his feet. He swayed in spot for a moment, looking around in a daze.
The sunlight filtered in through the window, dappling through the curtains onto his floor. For a moment he felt himself compelled to step toward it, pausing only to consider the door. Yes, outside. He wanted to be outside, in the sunlight, maybe it'd warm him up. He felt like it might do even more, perhaps, what he wasn't sure.
He tottered over and stepped outside, sighing. There was a brief moment as the sun slid butter yellow over his skin, warming him entirely. The small sigh of pleasure and satisfaction was cut short into a sharp his. He doubled over, arms clenching over his middle as he closed his eyes tightly. "Oh god, ahh... what.." It hurt.
It felt like his whole body was throbbing, that itchy, painful pins and needles feeling spreading rappidly over his skin along his arms and stomach. He watched distantly as the pigmentation of his flesh actually began to change, first darker, then more yellow, then greenish-brown. It didn't comprehend that something wrong was happeneing until his body started to change shape.
But before that terror could fully claim him another took over. A dull grinding was scraping over his gums. He pressed his tongue against the back of a tooth only to feel it fall loose against his tongue. He spat violently, his face contorting into fear as more came out with the one he'd felt before. Soon they were gone, all gone. He began to groan deeply, parting his lips as something new and sharp pushed through the tender flesh. He moved to run his tongue desperatly along these new formations only to yelp and cry out in alarm as his tongue was cut into and he tasted blood in his mouth.
Finally Taro began to scream in fear.Thomas Brinley It was the screams that finally drew Thom to the scene. Admittedly, he had been on his way to Taro's duplex anyway, but he had been taking his time, working out how best to beat the hell out of Taro without actually beating the hell out of him. As must as it would amuse him, and as much as Taro deserved it, it was likely to only make things worse when Taro and Natsumi spoke again. He wasn't terribly angry either, just peeved that anyone would call Natsumi, of all people, something like that, especially someone she cared for. And then the screams began. Thom reacted without even thinking, quickening his awkward crutch-step pace to head towards the sounds. It wasn't long before Taro came into sight, screaming at the top of his lungs outside of a duplex. Certainly not the person who would have been tops on his list to help out, but Thom could at least establish what was wrong. He hurried over to the bent-double man, setting his right hand, his crutch-free hand, on Taro's shoulder and making as if to pull him straight. That is, until he noticed the blood strewn pile of teeth on the ground and froze where he was. Taro was changing. Taro Hirohito H e had time to register another presence, to look up and feel a moment of seering anger as he saw Thom standing there, touching him, even to gurgle an inarticulate sound towards him. It was probably meant to be a surly growl, but sounded more of a frightened whimper.
And then a whole new pain blossomed over his skin. At first it was just an uncomfortable itch that quickly grew into an uncomfortable pain, like someone pressing a dull needle against your skin. All over, it felt as though something was bristling beneath his flesh and then...
"AH!" Taro's eyes widened as he felt the distinct pinch and then tear of skin breaking, it seemed as though entire chunks of his flesh were being torn to shreds. Blood trickled into his eyes as sharp spines, sharp as daggers, tore from his forehead, the bridge of his nose, cheeks, chin. He took a rattling breath only to realease it again in a scream far different from the one before. It'd been fear before.
It was agonzing pain now.
It felt like it took forever as the spines began protruding. If Thom watched carefully he might notice that the tips seemed to just poke slowly out at first before shooting outward, sending small spatters of blood in their wake. All over his body, even his shoulder where Thom was holding him.
Taro began to writhe in desperation and fear, swaying dangerously close to Thom, what was ha... what was... what...
His whole body shuddered and he stumbled forward, looking down for the first time to see the dusgusting twist of his toes and feet as well. He'd forgotten about them completely, they'd gone numb.
His eyelids flickered as though he might faint.Thomas Brinley Briefly Thom's eyes met Taro's, but just as quickly the Japanese man was looking away once more, for which Thom was very grateful. He grimaced, momentarily closing his eyes against the sight that had greeted him--blood spilling from a mouth brimming with pointed teeth. And then the screams began anew, and it occurred to Thom that teeth like that likely meant something dangerous, and that he should probably get out of the way in case Taro became violent. He opened his eyes just as the protruding pins began spreading to Taro's back, and earned himself a handful of spines before he managed to pull away, giving out a startled shout of his own. He backed away a few paces, deciding there was nothing he could do for Taro until he was sure the transformation had ended, and concerned himself instead with the spines in his hand, gingerly giving one a light tug and hissing through his teeth when it refused to budge. Godammit. Taro Hirohito O nly a few more spines sprouted from Taro by the time Thom backed away, the japanese man giving an extra yelp of agony as Thom promptly tore a few of the freshly grown spines from the jagged, tender flesh.
Finally everything seemed to stop, as though someone suddenly had slamed on the breaks. Taro collapsed forward, instantly wincing and shifting, trying not to fall as the tender spines dug in. The long fingernail-like spines at his fingertips scrabbled at the cement.
He looked up, hair plastered to his now slightly green flesh by sweat and blood. His eyes were clouded with pain and vaugly aware. He swayed, conscience of every p***k of every needle as he knelt awkwardly on the ground. He moved unthinkingly to wrap his arms about himself for comfort only to give a sharp, breathless gasp at the pricks of his own spines.
Taro gave a low, wretched moan, remaining in his kneeling position on the doorstep of his duplex, unable to move, arms extended awkwardly out to either side for fear of injuring himself.Thomas Brinley Thom failed to notice the conclusion of the man's changes, preoccupied with the few spines that were sticking in his hand, rather than out of Taro. He spent the last minutes of Taro's change arguing with one of the barbed spines in his own hand, tugging weakly at it before finally simply ripping the offending spike clear out--a rather painful process, and one the made him curse and decide the others were best left where they were for the time. His distraction, for the time, past, he glanced back up and over to Taro, grimacing at the sight that greeted him. The poor man was a mess, flecked with blood where the spines had protruded, not to mention the blood still staining his chin and shirt from the arrival of his new teeth. He looked utterly miserable... Which was quite understandable, really. Thom was sure he would have been more sympathetic had Taro not been so cruel to Natsumi earlier that day. As it was, when he finally did approach the man once more, he realized...there really wasn't much he could do without earning himself further spines in his hands. He hesitated, then sunk into a crouch, attempting to attract Taro's attention without physically touching the man. "'Ere now, ah, d' you think you need t'go to th' labs?" Though physically the change seemed...well, particularly horrible, it didn't mean Taro wouldn't recover in an hour or two and be fine. He did, however, look like he could use some painkillers. And then it occurred to Thom that, when last they had met, Taro hadn't spoken any english. Taro Hirohito S omething... oh ********, he didn't care anymore. He was in misery, it felt as though his whole body was throbbing and sticky. Everything hurt, movement hurt worse of all, and the fact that Taro only JUST realized that Thom was different didn't help.
He was left staring open mouthed at the other man, partly because of the new sharp teeth, partly for surprise.
He loathed the man in front of him. Thom had become the symbol of Taro's misery. Thom was why spines had sprouted out of his body. Thom was the reason Natsumi was gone.
He wheezed softly. "<******** you, b*****d." He knew Thom didn't understand. This small vent would have to be enough for now. He'd get him later. Taro was usually pretty stupid, usually didn't think ahead, didn't consider all the possibilities but for one glorious moment, perhaps brought on by the shock, pain, and fear, where he thought clearly.
Thom had been here longer than he, he had to have been. He exorcised some of the shiney brand new English he'd labourously taught himself while he'd been locked up in his duplex.
"Help... world. First-aid."
He'd gotten one word wrong, he'd meant to say wound - and then there was the matter of his painfully thick accent. He swayed lightly with the wind, finding that the sun gave a little comfort as it glared down on his back.
He refused to look up at Thom. There would only be this one moment and then the other would never see him like this again, he swore.Thomas Brinley When the first words out of Taro's mouth were Japanese, Thom grimaced, half toying with the idea of just leaving Taro to his own means. The look was unpleasant, and the words sounded the same, so why should be bother to help? He woudn't have if he had known exactly what it was Taro had said. But he didn't, and that alone allowed him to brush the words aside when Taro really did as for help. Help. World. First-aid. He wasn't sure what the 'world' was about, but he chocked it up to a mistranslation and nodded. When asked for help, he could hardly just walk away. But he really couldn't literally aid Taro in any way--those spines made him untouchable. "Wait here," he finally instructed, jabbing a finger at the ground to be sure Taro understood his point. "I'll get first-aid." Turning, favoring his right hand, he turned and started as quickly as possible given his odd manner of walking for the cafeteria. He had heard help for minor injuries was available there. There wasn't much more that could be done for Taro than to toss some painkillers at him and clean up the blood. Taro Hirohito H e understood the word 'wait' and then of course 'first-aid', so he had to assume that Thom was going to go get some form of help. He couldn't do much else but trust the other to come back.
Taro's eyes closed, his face a slight grimace. His skin almost felt like it was beginning to numb around the areas that the spikes had errupted from. He felt as though he should be sweating but found himself dry, save for the quickly drying blood. He must look like some sort of terrible nightmare.
The sun soothed and relaxed him a little, it felt comforting and delicious on his back and shoulders. He opened his eyes again, bringing up his hands to look at them. What... what was he? What sort of animal was this? Maybe a lizard? But what lizard has spikes? Maybe one of those desert ones, the kind that squirt blood out of it's eyes.
His eyes slid past his hands and downward as soon as a vaugly odd sensation registered in his mind. He blinked down at his toes, watching with a sort of distant interest as they seemed to be... burrowing, slowly, very slowly, but burrowing nonetheless. They were pressing of their own accord down into the earth, and that was what was so strange about the sensation.
He wasn't really controlling them. Maybe he wasn't a lizard afterall. He'd have to ask someone later. Thomas Brinley It took a bit longer for Thom to make the trip to the cafeteria and back than it would have for most, but he did try to hurry, at the very least. Walking back was something of a difficulty given everything he was trying to carry. He hadn't quite been sure what to ask for, and so he had asked for just about everything, only to be left with the task of hobbling back to the duplexes with an armful of painkillers, hydrogen peroxide, bandages and so on--as well as a bottle of water so as not to bother with entering anyone's duplex. Taro was irksome enough outside. However, upon reaching Taro once more, he hesitated, frowning down at the assortment of first-aid whatnots he was carrying. All well and good to clean up the blood and such, but what did you do for a man with spines sticking out of...everywhere? How was Taro supposed to sit, to rest, to do anything but stand there all day long? ...Deciding there were more important things right now, he proceeded to dump most of the supplies on the ground, popping open the bottle of painkillers and pouring a few onto his hand, offering them out to Taro and gesturing to the water bottle. "Best I can do, lad. Per'aps it'll 'elp." Taro Hirohito H e looked up at the other spitefully, leaning forward slightly as he reached out. His hand paused in between them as he saw the hideous green tint of them, the back covered in spines and blood, his nails longer than comfortable.
He didn't exactly think he could take the pills from Thom, much less take them from him without pricking him. Instead he held out his own hand, palm up. It was strange how quickly he was feeling better the longer he stand out in the sun, his toes poking down as far as they could into the rich soil.
"Thank." He said in a dry voice, eyeing the water bottle with keen interest. He was thirsty... very, very thirsty, almost to the point of dehydration, or so it felt.Thomas Brinley Thom dropped the pills onto the outstretched hand, figuring there was no easier way to do it. He wasn't about to hand feed Taro, nor was he going to hold the waterbottle while Taro drank from it, which posed another problem. He glanced from the bottle to Taro's hand and back, then, shrugging, twisted open the top and held it out for him to take if he could manage. Maybe he could hold it with his fingertips or something. Taro Hirohito H e fumbled only a moment as he tried to figure the easiest way to down the pills. He opened his hand as wide as he could and then brought the palm to his lips, effectivly tossing the pills in. The water bottle was a little trickier.
He reached out delicatly, nails pricking against the plastic only a little bit (thankfully not puncturing) before he manage to get it into his hand - thank god his palms were spine free. He tipped the bottle to his lips, swallowing tentativly at first, gradually beginning to gulp the water more quickly.
A few drops trickled from the corners of his mouth as he downed the entire bottle without bringing it away from his mouth once. When it was empty he simply dropped it, sighing a little. That felt better, he didn't feel as dry and thirsty. He looked up at Thom, inspecting the man in front of him. He looked vaugly reptilian, there were scales and patterns, and that tail.
That woman on the beach had been some mammel, and that man in the cafeteria had been too.
He looked down at his own self in confusion, there was no small hint as to what he was. He was still human, of course, always... but what ELSE was he now? He turned, picking his feet up awkwardly from the ground, having to tug in a slightly comical way as his toes refused to come up from the ground immediatly, and fumbled with the doorknob of his duplex. He curssed a few times at it before managing to get a good, p***k-free grip, and janked it open, stalking through the door way.
He cast a glare over his shoulder at Thom - he'd keep his vow to never let him see him weak again, no matter what - and slammed the door shut behind him.Thomas Brinley Thom was saved the trouble of finding an excuse to leave when, without a word, Taro retreated back into the duplex. He quirked a brow, frowning, but simply dropped some of the various first-aid supplies at the base of the door and started home to his own duplex, keeping the rest for himself. There, he had helped. Natsumi couldn't be mad at him. Now to see to his own hand. The damned spines stung...
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Posted: Wed Aug 30, 2006 6:26 pm
Alec's Riverside Camp
Visiting an Exile Farther down shore out of sight due to the overhanging foliage, is a small area with some indications of 'human' life.
After the most recent announcement from the Doctor himself, its natural to think that the aquatic member of the infamous duo would most logically reside in a place nearest to a water source. Indeed, there's evidence of indents in the mud where the boy has slept or simply sat by the shoreline alone. Not much else can be seen besides a dirty bandanna half-submerged in the sand and a few scraps of evenly-positioned broken logs a few feet away from the water's edge.
Fearing to venture far from the river, he'd most likely hear you if you called down the shoreline. The social teen would definetly appreciate any visitors. :3 Most visitors, perhaps, but any could be quite a stretch when one considered who might come wandering by. Thom had noticed the river in passing a time or two, but had never actually taken the time to inspect it, prefering the beach as his choice body of water. However, the walk to the beach was a long one when one had only one leg, and the various red welts along his right hand and arm, remnents of his meeting a few days earlier with Taro, had begun to sting once more long before the sand came into sight. With no medication on hand (meaning Thom had been too proud to ask the labs), water and mud soothed best, and the sound of moving water quickly attracted the cobra man. He reached the river in a short amount of time and, without a second thought, he discarded his crutch on the bank and slipped into the current, sighing in relief and sinking down in the shallows to let the water work its magic. It wasn't so much the sound of the limping man crawling into the water so much as it was the disturbance in the water's surface that caught the attention of a certain water-dweller. Peeking above surface for a moment in a pause in his bath, he creeped over with interest though stealth was not intended. Still submerged with only a muzzle and row of fins visible, Alec decided to check out who or what was paying him a visit. Something was lurking. The cobra knew it was there, hiding somewhere near by, but where exactly, he couldn't be sure. Thom glanced warily around the area, first the shore, than the water, but chose to stay in the river. Standing was still a hassle with the short leg, whereas his new, longer tail was quite capable in the water. Also, odds had it that whatever was watching him was on the shore, so more the better if he wasn't there as well. But that nagging feeling... Although his eyesight wasn't the best anymore, Alec could clearly pick out the familiar features of the crotchity snakeman the closer he got. Using his hands as rudders to lazily direct himself, the teen decided it was best not to startle him accidently (still weary from being on the sore end of a bad situation) and directed himself to make a slow, circling pass into Thom's view. And there it was, in the water of all places! Thom noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye and, out of instinct, whirled on the approaching creature, hood flaring in an effort to spook it away. That is, until he recognized the shark as Alec and relaxed somewhat, even chuckling softly as his own nervous reaction. Even though he and Alec hadn't parted on the best of terms, they weren't to the point of violence. "You about gave me an 'eart attack there." He admitted, backing into shallower water to crouch in the current and tend to the welts on his arm. "What're y' doin' out 'ere?" Alec drifted until he came to a stop somewhat, treading the water so his position was stable. Sticking his head out of the water, he curiously blinked at Thom's puffed-out neck for a moment before speaking in a meek tone. "Sorreh." He murmured before righting himself into more of a sitting position, despite the fact that he was in the middle of the river still. "Uh? Ye di'nt 'ear?" The teen wanted to sigh and make up some story about how he really really liked swimming alone in the river at this time of day, but knowing the short-tempered snake, he probably wouldn't take kindly to lies. He'd probably see right through them anyways.
"A' w's kicked ou'." His tone dropped into a flat, shameful sound. Thom quirked a brow when Alec first replied, utterly baffled. He had expected a jab, perhaps, or maybe a joke, but that quiet tone? Of course, it made sense once Alec explained his exile. Thom nodded slowly, remembering back a few days to the announcement. Moreau hadn't said who had attacked his fiancee, whatsername, Aubrey. But here was the culprit. The reason why he had attempted it was fairly obvious as well. Though they had built up some animosity towards each other at the last meeting, now, Thom decided, was neither the time nor place for that. "Ahh.. So that was you, hmm..?" Hesitating, he sighed and shook his head. "Not t'rub it in, mind, but I warned you... If escape was possible, it would 'ave 'appened by now. We're stuck 'ere, Alec." Alec nodded slowly, listening to Thom in silence. He didn't want to remember their conversation in the jungle. He didn't want to admit he'd been right all along, that he just couldn't do it. Freedom really was just a dream afterall, so it seemed.
Still unable to admit it to himself, outloud or otherwise, the irish teen simply stayed silent as his sad face sunk halfway into the water, a stream of bubbles floating rapidly to the surface. "'Ey now," Thom finally continued, picking up on a different note. Earlier arguement aside, it didn't seem right to leave the teen so upset. And really, there were much worse things that could have happened. Mind, Thom would cling to his duplex for as long as possible, but he had grown used to snatching naps on the beach or in the shade. Food would be the real problem, and even that shouldn't be -too- difficult. The labs weren't about to let their prized subjects die of hunger. "Could be worse, right? Moreau's just made life a bit more difficult, not restrained it all together. Emelyn's managed perfectly fine without comin' near th' village for months. If she can manage, so can you." Alec recalled a recent encounter with a few islanders over some jungle-provided snacks, berries and nuts mostly. He visibly cringed, wondering if a person could actually survive on such meager bits of sustinance for a long period of time. That's what he expected, anyways. To be stuck out there for a very, very long time.
It took all his willpower not to ask... or beg, Thom to sneak him some food from the caf but he knew it wouldn't be right. He couldn't have anyone get hurt on his behalf, he'd never be able to live with himself. No one said he couldn't have contact with other islanders however, so he'd savor the company... even if it was Thomas Brinley.
"A' guess ye righ'." He admitted finally after re-surfacing. Treading to the bank of the river, the shark boy leisurely propped up his elbows on the solida ground while letting the rest of him lay submerged in the water. In a position like that, the oddity that was Alec almost looked somewhat natural in the elements. "So wha' ye been up teh'?" The teen decided to ask, urging the conversation on further. At least Alec wasn't sulking anymore. Thom certainly didn't envy him his position, but, again, there were worse fates. He founds his thoughts going back to Emelyn, and how she had mentioned choosing to leave so Moreau would not have a hold on her anymore. In a way, leaving the village was almost a blessing. Short of waking up in the labs, you had control of your own life again. ...Oh course, Thom liked his bed. "Well." Where to begin? "Chatted with Cassidy. Debatin' startin' to eat mice. Met some dragon man an' took 'is hat. Hooked up Natsumi an' Newt, watched a man sprout spines. And 'ere I am. Never a dull moment," he finished dryly, swimming over to join Alec at the bank. Alec looked surprised as he listened to the snake recount the events that had recently occurred in his life, impressed that he seemed to be quite social apparently. Although the teen had definetly had an "interesting" experience lately, he couldn't help but think he could get out a bit more. His current situation made it a little hard, to say the least.
"Buseh." He chirped a simple response, relaxing in the water. "A' d'n think a' met 'alf o' those pehple an' if a' did, a' 'avent seen 'em n' a looong time..." Or so it seemed. "Fairly," he admitted, only then realizing it himself. But really, it sounded like much more than it was. Four of those encounters had taken place on the same day, and Cassidy had been a few short days before. There were plenty of days where he didn't see anyone at all. "Mm. Python, dragon, gecko, frog, an'... I'm honestly not sure what the last lad is. Bloody painful transformation, though. Little Japanese lad, 'e just 'ad bloody spines stickin' all out of 'im. Got me a good few times, too." He held up his right hand, his injured hand, where even after soaking a bit red welts could be seen. Alec's lip curled back in a wince, figuring the guy's transformation mustn't have been very pleasant. Attempting to think of what possibly could possess so many spines with little knowledge of the animal kigndom was indeed a challenge, though he finally imagined something along the lines of a hedgehog, like Emelyn. "Thas sick." He muttered, trying not to think too much on it. It was hard to sympathize for someone he'd never met, though easy to imagine the suffering.
"A' 'ope mo' pehple come n' visi'... ye'll th'firs'." The teen suddenly admitted , though he didn't know why. Perhaps the lack of socializing was getting to him worse than expected, given that he hadn't been alone for too long... yet. Thom had already toyed with the idea that Taro was some kind of hedgehog type thing, but he had finally been forced to decide against that thought. Emelyn's spines seemed more like hair. These seemed...more like thorns, really. He blinked. Alec had bark and leaves. What's to say Taro wasn't a plant-something as well? ...Ha ha, served him right. "I'm sure they will," Thom assured the teen, dipping his hand back in the water and setting about caking the welts with mud. "Probably just 'aven't been able to find you. Need t' make it more clear that you live 'ere." Alec turned to Thom and chuffed a laugh at the thought. "Wi' brigh' neon signs?" The teen jested at the thought, at a loss for ideas. How would be make it known that someone lived in the middle of a jungle without cutting down trees, setting up campfires? Hell... he didn't even know how to make a fire yet and he was in no shape to topple over lumber by his lonesome. "Why not?" he countered dryly, lifting his hand clear of the water with a big glob of bank mud held in his palm. It wasn't the most hygenic way to deal with the welts, but it certainly felt good. Which spreading the muck out over his hand, he replied, "I'm sure you'll think of somethin'. I'd offer to 'elp, but I like my bed. I'm sure you understand." Alec smirked at Thom's comment, expecting a similar comeback from the scaled man. It didn't bother him in the least.
"Ye... heh. A' know. A' wou'nt make ye do somethin' like tha'." He pulled himself up and out of the water, turning around to sit down with a pronounced squish into the muddy riverbank. "Ye sure ye even allowed t'talk t'me?" The teen chuckled to himself, making the best out of the situation. Isn't that what he used to be so good at? He grinned in response, but remained in the river, quite content to enjoy to water. In the water he was still normal, still whole. It was only when he attempted to climb out that he would have to retrieve his crutch, and he prefered to avoid that moment for as long as possible. "If not, there's not much I can do about it. So no rush. Unless I'm pesterin' you?" Alec 's amusement escalated until he outright laughed, smacking the water's surface to excentuate the reaction. "Ye ye, buggeh off, ay? A'm on a schedule 'ere. Go' too maneh things t'do." It was sad that the only things he would be doing included rooting for food off the floor and hoping someone would come and visit him, but he wouldn't tell Thom that. "Tch. If you insist." He laughed and ducked beneath the water, resurfacing after only a beat and pulling himself onto the bank. Turning, he sat with his legs still in the water and glanced down the bank where his crutch lay a short distance away. After a pause, he decided ignoring the crutch was the best policy and instead returned his attention to the river. "Changed m' mind. There's no rush. You'll live." "Oh good." Alec mused, watching debris float down the river with the current. "Ye sai' so, so a'll believe ye." The teen chuckled sarcastically but there contained some sincerity in his thoughts. He felt comfort at the time, perhaps even safe although he found it a little strange that the unlikely conversationalist wasn't really a close friend at all. Was he that weak? "I'm always right," he assured the shark man, smirking faintly. He fell into easy silence, surprising considering his last meeting with the teen. But major upsets had a way of making minor disagreements seem trifle and unimportant. Being kicked out and left to fend for oneself in the wild was enough to make any company seem welcome, Thom though wryly. Good to know he got along with people so well. "So, what'd y' do exactly? T' get kicked out?" Alec's face lost any hint of amusement at Thom's inevitable question, the teen retorting by simply clamping his jaw tightly shut while turning his eyes to stare into the mud. A bitter expression passed over him as he seemed to be thinking of what to say or if it was wise saying anything at all.
"Tom-" He slowly began speaking but cut himself off quick. After realizing that the syllable he'd uttered might be misinterpretted, he continued. "Tommeh Christi'n an' a' decided we'd try t'ge' free o' this place." The sharkboy muttered sternly and low, clearly the conversation leaving a bad taste in his mouth.
Suddenly the boy's head snapped up and he found himself glaring at Thom, his voice changing as if he was a man hopelessly on trial. "An' a' neveh trie' t'urt Aubreh!!! A' wasn' tryin' teh, she wasn' th'one a' wanted!!..." He stopped once he'd realized he was yelling, waves of guilt already forming for raising his voice for no good reason. Thom grimaced as the tirade began, realizing he had asked perhaps the worse question possible given the present situation. He raised both hands as if to ward Alec away, shaking his head slowly. "Easy now, lad. I wasn't blamin' you. Just curious, alright? Calm down." He could understand Alec's anger, but he was also well aware that with animal instincts in the mix, anger often went much farther than bitter words. As difficult as it was for him to even stand, he was a sitting duck should Alec lash out. Alec, already mentally chastizing himself or his outburst, was more than happy to accept Thom's advice to calm down. Nodding vigorously, he settled back down into his indent in the mud and let his head hang down between his knees. After heeving a sigh he glanced up, but not at Thom. He'd stare ahead into the trees.
When he spoke again, it was in a much calmer, quieter tone. "A' figgeh theh'll le' me back soon, ay? They can' let me staw've o' anehthin, a' thin'." Thom relaxed only when he was positive Alec had calmed down, mirroring the shark man and turning his gave back towards the river. "They won't let y' starve," he assured the teen, shrugging. After a pause, he added, "Per'aps if y' stay out of trouble, they'll let y' back after a while. Best behavior an' all that." Alec turned to look back at the cobra man, nodding once again with a hopeful look. He was right. Nothing bad had happened to him up until he'd pulled that stunt in the Village, perhaps they'd forgive him if he showed them it was all an error in judgement and nothing more. "Ye." He reassured himself outloud, returning to kicking at the surface of the river. Thom graced the river with a kick of his own, chuckling bitterly at the mismatched splashes from his asymmetrical legs. He offered Alec an encouraging slap on the back, then took the liberty of bracing himself against the teen while he climbed to his feet--or foot, rather. His tail took the role of his shortened leg, and he slowly proceeded down the bank to retrieve his crutch, scooping it off the ground and positioning it beneath his arm. "Th' labs did this as punishment. So make th' best of it, don't make it seem like a punishment, an' they'll grow bored an' let you back." Alec smirk as Thom got to a standing position with a little assistance, but his eyes followed the snakeman's movements towards his walking aide with less amusement. He wasn't leaving, was he? Not yet, he just got here! Hadn't he?
"Ye." The teen slightly forced a chuckle as a retort, unmoving from his spot on the riverbank. He caught the teen's look and grimaced slightly, taking a step away from the bank to keep his crutch from sinking in the mud. "I'll tell anyone I see back at th' village where y' are, see if we can't get y' some visitors. An' if you'd like, I'll bring y' one of my footballs. No use t'me anymore, an' it's not technically 'elpin'... Gives y' somethin' t' do, at any rate." He appreciated how patient Thom was being, honestly surprised by the significant change in the snakeman's attidute. "Thanks." He muttered with a nod, accepting the fact that he had to leave. He understood that they shouldn't have to be forced to keep him company.
Turning in around as Thom made to leave, the irish boy pulled his legs out of the water and crossed them indian-style. "Ye'll come back too? Righ'?" The question sounded so innocent, so vulnerable and out of place with the looks of whom the words had come from. "'Course, lad." Laughing, he turned his back on the shark teen, tugging his crutch from the bank mud with a wet squelch and pacing a short distance away onto firm ground. "So I 'ave a bed. Doesn't mean I 'ave anythin' else t' do with my time, does it?" He offered a half wave goodbye, then started back the way he had come, right hand still caked in mud from the river. "I'll come pester you again soon. Keep y' chin up." Alec smiled and waved back as he watched him go. "A' won' miss ye too much!" He yelled out in a feeble attempt at regaining somesort of dignity, though he wasn't exactly aware enough of himself to be ashamed by his childish attitude.
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Posted: Sat Sep 09, 2006 12:31 am
The next time Thom returns home alone and goes to sleep, his dreams are frought with nightmares. Much like the vivid pre-change nightmares, they're realisitc, horrifying, and rather poignant.
You're startled awake with a bright light and the sound of a blaring horn - and even if the memory had been repressed of the bus crash, it all comes back in a terrifying wave of adrenaline.
After the initial shock, the noise, you realize, came from the speaker of the intercom, the lights from the ceiling, which now dim back to normal.
But, your room feels.... different. Yucky. .... you hear skittering noises.... and as you look, you notice the movement first. Bugs. lots of them. Mostly roaches - both your garden variety house roach AND hissing cockroaches. There's also large beetles, some caterpillars, and all sorts of creepy crawlies.
About a minute after you wake, you hear another noise. The small screen which is usually cleverly disguised as just part of the plastic of the intercom snaps to life - playing a video.... which... appears to be your funeral. Many people have gathered, including some of your surviving teammates (many wearing casts or bearing scars), your family, your friends.... all of them look very distraught.
If you try to leave, your door is locked. It won't open - not with force, not with key. The funeral - which is a normal funeral-lenght, and hour+ ordeal, loops a few times, playing for most of the day.
If you get hungry.... there's bugs. In fact, with your dietary system, they're an excellent source of proten, and about the perfect size to swallow whole.
The door remains locked for about three days.
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Sabin Duvert Vice Captain
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Posted: Sat Sep 09, 2006 6:00 pm
Day One
His dreams ran wild that first night, violent spurts of image and sound, too quick and random to focus on, too blatantly loud to ignore. His dreams were a mess of old conversations, brief snips with friends and family, odd glimpses of this or that islander. Shadows haunted his visions and made one seem like another; voices laughed, voices cackled, and through it all a snake wove, rearing up to hiss, hiss... The dying squeal of a mouse's final breath, of a rabbit's, a monkey's, a human's--and through it all, the dull scrape of metal on metal. And then clarity arrived mid dream. He was running--crutch gone, stub leg somehow supporting him--, running through the trees, laughing bitterly and breathless as he moved effortlessly through the jungle. The trees opened up ahead--a road. And here he paused but a moment to catch his breath, then swiftly scrambled into the branches of the nearest tree, taking a position carefully hidden over the roadway. Across the dirt road, footprints approached to pause directly opposite Thom; Rex, likewise out of breath, was visible briefly before melting back into the cover of the jungle and moving into a tree of his own. The thrum of a motor pierced the stillness, moving up the road, growing in volume as it drew nearer--not quickly, for the road was rough, scarred and trenched by the elements. It came into sight: a jeep, two passengers, one in top hat, the other sporting red scales, the driver on his own side, the passenger on Rex's. Closer, closer, nearer, go! Simultaneously they broke from the tree cover, swinging down from branches to land in the back seat of the jeep, for the driver had seen their descent and sped up. But it was not enough. Quickly stabalizing his footing, the cobra whirled and dove, long fangs visible briefly before sinking deep into the shoulder of the man in the top hat. A split second later a long, sinuous tail looped itself around the man's neck, once, twice, squeezing and choking as venom swept through his system. Beside him, vaguely, he heard a trio of satisfying thuds, followed by a bitter laugh and the sound of something heavy landing in the bushes. Rex moved up, reaching across the man in the top hat to take the wheel, and Thom likewise disposed of him. Laughing, the cobra man slipped into the front seat, taking the wheel from Rex and slamming the pedal to the floor. Step one, complete. They drove with reckless speed, flying over the bumps in the road, Thom simply enjoying the success of first victory, Rex rambling on about what was planned from there. And then the voice changed. "That makes th' score what now?" Aaron drawled, bending to scoop a soccer ball from the floor of the jeep. Thom jumped, startled by the change, and glanced sideways to his friend, watching Gerald in confusion. The jeep was gone, a bus around them instead, though Thom was driving and Aaron was across the aisle. Aaron said up, grinning, but immediately leapt from his seat, waving forward. "Watch the ro--" Thom turned. Blinding headlights, blaring horn. Metal against metal. Thom awoke even as he swerved, effectively rolling himself off the bed, one hand managing to grab the blanket and ease his fall. Nonetheless, as his legs hit the floor, there were a number of soft crunches as tiny bodies were crushed beneath him. The light from the ceiling blinded him as effectively as the light in his dream, and the sound of the horn faded from the room long before the ringing left his ears. With some effort he pulled himself to his feet, doing so just as the light began to fade. He had but a moment to acknowledge and peel off the bodies of the roaches--and one catepillar--crushed against his legs before the light faded altogether, leaving the room in total darkness. The light had been out while he slept, naturally, and now it was again. Irritated by the prank, he reached over to the nightstand and, after feeling around for a moment, twisted the small knob that should have brought the lamp to life. It didn't. He tried a second time, a third, and finally gave up. Instead, he groped around for his crutch, finding it propped up as per usual beside his bed, and made his way across the floor to the main light switch, grimacing with the far too common crunches beneath his foot. He flicked the switch--nothing happened--and proceeded to repeat the action a time or two more with the same results. Cursing under his breath, he sidestepped to try the door instead with the intention of finding somewhere to stay until it was light that had less creepy crawlies, not that he had the faintest idea where the bugs had come from, nor the extent of the infestation. He must have left some food in their reach. The door was locked. This was no surprise, really. He unlocked it, twisted the knob--and it didn't budge. He tried again, a third time, and was about ready to ram the door when he heard...voices? He looked up just as a small screen flickered to life on the key panel, the light emitted from it serving as the only source in the room. Now, at least, Thom could vaguely see where he was walking. However, on the same token, the light sent shadows streaming across the room. Hundreds and thousands of tiny, moving shadows, skittering and crawling across his walls, his floor, his bed, his belongings... There was a dull hum of wings, and something alighted on his shoulder. Thom cringed away and brushed the offending insect off, but made no further move. The presence of so many insects disturbed him, perhaps irritated him, but did not bother him terribly. He disliked bugs, but he didn't fear them. He simply prefered not to muss everything in his room with bug guts. However, he certainly couldn't stand there forever, and the tiny screen had him aching with curiosity. Carefully he picked his path through the insects, over to his bed. He brushed insects off the blanket, shuddering and violently shaking one off his hand when it attempted to climb up his arm, and took a seat nearest the screen, leaning forward to watch and listen. A funeral, he realized before long. His funeral. He paled, willing himself to look away, to ignore it, but a nagging curiosity bid him watch. What could it hurt? He wasn't really dead. They just...thought he was. It was nearly as bad, he decided, once this knowledge had sunken in. But nonetheless, he continued to watch. His family, his friends, countless others--some he recognized, some he didn't; the sight was touching, in a way, knowing so many people cared enough to attend. So many people who he would never say goodbye to. So many who were upset by his 'passing'. His eyes flickered towards the ceiling, searching in vain through the darkness for those blaring headlights. Good men had died in that wreck, others badly injured. Himself? He was on a tropical island, turning into a snake. Alive. It seemed wrong somehow. Mind, he was certainly not happy with his situation, but had it been an animal with legs, he could almost have enjoyed his stay. Spend the rest of his life on a tropical island where anyone he wanted was just a call away? Who would turn that down? Why him? Why life when others had died? He lifted a hand to rub his temple, gaze falling back to the small screen. He listened, he watched; the funeral dragged on, and he was laid to rest. The event came to a conclusion, and the guests began to depart. Thom sighed, rising to his feet with the intent of trying the door again, but paused as voices began anew on the small screen. A glance up showed the beginning of the funeral, exactly as before, playing through a second time. Thom watched briefly, then retrieved his crutch and picked his way through the skittering insects to the door. Try the knob, turn the lock, try again, ram the door with his shoulder--nothing. He retreated to his bed. Sat, stood, paced, sat. Minutes turned into hours. The darkness grew oppresive, weighing down on him, fogging his senses. He couldn't speak; the room was silence save for the soft voices from the funeral playing repeatedly on the small screen and the sounds of thousands of bug legs. A roach would run up his leg to be flicked off onto the floor. A second, a third--one up his back. He eventually gave up his attempts at keeping the bugs away, sitting still and silent on his bed, watching his funeral time and again while the bravest of the insects explored his limbs. Hours. Days. Perpetual darkness. And all the while the funeral droning in the background. Maybe... Maybe he hadn't made it out alive.
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Posted: Sat Sep 09, 2006 6:23 pm
Day Two Silence. Thick, muggy, oppressive, drowning silence. The droning funeral, after hours of playing and replaying, had finally flickered and died away, though for some time afterwards the words lingered in the thick air, running through Thom's head time and again. The one light source had gone with the funeral's end, taking with it the shadows as the room fell into darkness. Heavy, clinging, silent darkness. Silence wasn't silent if you listened hard enough. The bugs were still there. He could hear them through the silence. Many thousands of legs clicked and scratched as they moved over the walls, the floor, each other... Tiny, brittle bodies scurried this way and that, seeking out any ounce of food they had yet to devour. And where there was no food, they ate whatever was to be found: the dressers, the curtains, the clothes, the sheets... They were on him as well, but he had ceased caring hours ago. On his legs, his arms, in his hair, his clothes; the feeling was repulsive, but for every one he brushed off, another three appeared in its place. The plagues had descended. There was no end to the insects. He had run the risk of fighting back once. In a sudden fit of rage, he leapt to his feet (and tail, as it was), swiping bugs from his limbs an hair and bracing himself against the bed with one hand to stomp viciously around at anything he could reach. The sickening crunches of tiny bodies were a sweet melody to his ears. His enemy would be vanquished. They could only keep coming for so long. And then, near his right shoulder blade, something had bitten him, leaving a large, sore welt that remained swollen for hours following. Wisely, Thom apologized to the insect community sharing his room and returned to his seat on the edge of the bed, allowing the bugs who came cautiously crawling back to explore his body once more. They let him be if he let them be. If he crushed them, they would crush him. He was hungry before long, had been since before his imprisonment, in fact. A lack of live food small enough for him to swallow had left the cobra glaring irritably at anything the man attempted to dine on. They could reach no agreement, and so each bid the other starve for a number of days until by sheer overpowering hunger they devoured whatever was available. There was no food in the duplex. What little Thom may have slipped from the cafeteria with the intention of forcing down his throat had long sense fallen to the waves of insects. Frequent trips to the bathroom sink filled his stomach with water to stem the hunger, but it was always, if vaguely, there. He had considered eating the insects at one point. Insects were, from what he could remember, a good source of protein, after all. They had eaten his food, why should he not retaliate? The very idea of eating such a thing sent his appetite fleeing for cover. Leave the bugs to Newt and Natsumi. The cobra wanted warmth, wanted fur, not crunching legs and pinchers. The welt on his shoulder leered at him. If he was to dare to eat a bug, would they not eat him in reply? He had already killed their kin. Give them an excuse for revenge and they would surely take it. The insects were as hungry as he was. Eternity meandered past. For long stretches of time he would simply sit and stare, stare through the darkness at the thousands of invisible bugs quickly conquering his duplex. For shorter stretches, he would think. Thoughts of home, of his family, his friends. Brief relationships, brilliant accomplishments, small, often ignored failures, and fleeting moments of true, utter happiness. His life ran before his eyes, illuminating on the darkened wall and playing through every memory he ever knew. The funeral weighed heavy on his thoughts, often interrupting scenes from happier events with a word or phrase. We lay to rest...Childhood ended, teen years flew by. Success in college and beyond. Making the national team for England. The prospect of the World Cup. Blinding headlights. Blaring horn. We lay to rest... And the island floated into his thoughts. The beautiful, nonexistent island. Each scene from the moment of his awakening played through his head. His first meeting with Sabin. The failed football match. His first change. His second change. Emelyn, Natsumi, Rex, Cassidy Alec, Zach. Humans to animals. One leg, no more running... What would they think if they saw him now, the family and friends mourning at that funeral? What would they think if he returned home? Home from the island, home from the grave; hooded and scaled with a tail as long as his body. One short leg. Thomas Brinley had died with the bus wreck, was buried in a grave back home in England. He was not Thomas Brinley. He was the remnants of that grave. The culmination of months lying deep within the earth. He had dreamed peacefully for months, but the insects had finally pierced his coffin. They had found him. Hell had found him. In a sudden quick movement he rose from his seat once more, automatically supporting himself with his tail. In a fit of panic, he rushed towards the doorway, toppling over to land with a number of condemning crunches on the floor. He had killed again. The bugs were swarming, enveloping him, smothering him in retaliation for their fallen comrades. Scrambling free of the masses, he stumbled towards the door, half walking, half crawling as he pulled himself from the waves of insects. His hands found the knob by chance, fumbling to no avail to open the way to his freedom. He rammed the door with his shoulder. Once, twice, "Let me out!" Crazed with fear, he repeated the attempt, alternately pleading for his freedom and charging the door himself. "LET ME OUT!" The rush of adrenaline began to fade after a time, hunger and weariness taking their toll. He overbalanced, leg giving way beneath him as he fell to one knee, hands still clinging to the doorknob. Let me out.... The insects were swarming again, skittering up his legs and down from the knob to which he so desperately clung. But there was no escape, and so he did not run again. He would not be rising from the grave.
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Posted: Sat Sep 09, 2006 6:24 pm
Day Three Let me out... The words echoed around the silent world, repeated by the shadows, the bugs, the door knob. Please...please let me out... Were they said aloud? He wasn't sure. He figured it didn't matter. There was no need for them to be spoken. There was no one to hear but the dead, and everyone knew the dead never really heard a thing. He hadn't bothered to leave the doorway. He had considered it briefly, once his cries had faded, but what was the use? Endless leagues of crawling bugs, darkness stretching on through infinity, with each step threatening to drag him down, to swallow him, envelop him in the sticky mass of eternal sensory deprivation. Eternal void, eternal night. Eternal death and darkness. And to what avail? A seat on a throne above the crawling masses? Ha! They showed no reverence for his throne. They would attack all the same. The floor, the bed, the room, the grave, all was fair ground to the enemy. And so he had remained near the door, seated with his back against it, head craned back to stare through the darkness at the moving ceiling. There had been voices at one point. A voice. Voices. Same thing. His name, again and again, from behind. Behind the door, behind the knob--or casting their voices, perhaps? Silly things, the door would not open. There was nothing beyond, after all, to be seen. Nothing at all. More darkness, perhaps. More bugs. More roiling waves of merciless insects bent on removing the intruder from their lands. But no one he would recognize. No one who would recognize him. They were back in the land of the living. They were watching the funeral as it happened, not time and again, time and again, over and over while the bugs crawled over the screen. The screen was blank, but the voice was there. Thomas?! Thomas?!.... So mocking, the voices of the bugs. Echoing the voices of his friends. Goodbye, Natsumi. Had he said that aloud? He thought not. He thought so. Perhaps he had spoken it twice. Quietly, though, so as not to disturb the bugs. They wouldn't like that. However, the name, whether spoken or unspoken, opened a floodgate for his thoughts, and away they went, running over the events that had occurred since his death. For he had died in that wreck, he was certain. There was no other explanation for it. The island was his limbo, so to speak, his judgment, and here the final test came to pass. Here was Hell, Hell had found him. But how? What had sent him to this hell? Why now? What had he done wrong? Look back, look back... Alec was the last meeting. But that had gone well! They were even on good terms again! Certainly a point in his favor. Wouldn't you agree? The roach most certainly did, nodding it's head vigorously from its perch on his knee. And then there was Natsumi and Newt, and that Taro lad and his change--but even then Thom could think of nothing he had done wrong. He certainly didn't have to help Taro out! Not after what the man had said to dear Natsumi! Another point in his favor, correct? The roach agreed. Thom was pleased. Certainly he was the victim here. And then the dragon man. Why, admittedly, that meeting hadn't gone the best, but there was nothing damning to it. A few curt words, a smashed top hat, that was all, that was all. The top hat, however.. A crucial point. Two birds with one stone, as it were--and he had left a sizable bump on the dragon's head as well. But would he be so petty? Would Sabin be so petty? "Logically," the roach argued from it's perch on his knee, "Though you weren't alive, you weren't quite dead until the illusion was broken. You were simply placed elsewhere, to go on as if living until your path for death was chosen. Do you follow?" the roach demanded, straightening its spectacles to eye him imperiously. Rousing from his stupor to stare bleary-eyed at the unlikely conversationalist, Thom slowly shook his head. "...Not really, no." "You're dead, man!" the roach shrieked, throwing up two pairs of limbs to emphasize its point. Thom frowned, having already come to this conclusion himself, and the insect continued. "Six feet under. Cold as the grave. Rotting by now, I shouldn't wonder. But you weren't aware of such until that beast landed you in the trouble that dumped you here, righto? So you were dead, but you were--""Alive," Thom interrupted quietly, craning his head back to eye the shadowy form of the doorknob through the darkness. "You're tellin' me things I already know. Go away b'fore I squish you." "You wouldn't squish me!" The insect laughed at the very idea, waving fondly up at the snake man. Plucking his spectacles from his nose, he set about polishing them on the plaid waistcoat he had apparently been wearing the entire time. "Besides, my brothers would eat you if you did, eh? Eh? Now, where were we? Right, well then, you're dead. Dragon-chap's dead. And you know you're dead because of him. Which means~?"There was a soft click, and both Thom and the roach looked towards the doorknob. After a pause, Thom reached through the traffic of insects, tugging his crutch over with the aid of his tail and calmly rising to his feet, in doing so sending the spectacled roach tumbling to the floor. "I've got t' remind him." And he opened the door.
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Posted: Sat Sep 09, 2006 6:49 pm
Revenge for a Murder
Hunting down Zach The door had opened that morning. He hadn't known it was morning. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, how long he had been entombed in his own home. Time hadn't mattered. Time didn't matter if you were dead. But the passage of time was maddening. That mattered not anymore. For the door had opened, and sunlight had greeted him for the first time in three days. Sunlight was blinding after years of darkness, but he had faced it, stepping from the cave of his doorway like some demon king striding from the gates of hell itself, accompanied by a veritable army of insects. A sight straight from nightmares, including his own. He had left the door open, allowing the bugs a route of escape, and without a second thought had ventured into the sunlight, armed with crutch and flattened hat, to seek out the cause of his torture. His present madness. Who else, but the dragon? The dragon would pay. The entire day he had searched, moving quickly despite his stub leg. Hungered gnawed at his stomach, and he paused briefly to catch a lizard, puncturing its neck with one claw-like nail and devouring the pitiful creature in three short bites. Why not? He was living a hallucination, living a hell--or dead and merely fooling himself, to wake up in the bug encrusted tomb once more. What was one lizard? He searched the course of the day, finally recalling the announcement that a 'Zach' was no longer allowed in the village. Zach the dragon, he decided. His prey had a title. His task was made more difficult, but not impossibly so. Caves would be the dragon's choice home. Alec the shark lived in a river, but the dragon-thing would choose a case. Emelyn lived in the caves near the mountain, if he recalled correctly. The dragon would live elsewhere. There were caves to the south, cliffs full of them. He could remember the sight from his runs on the beach. Running. He couldn't run anymore. But he could move quickly. He reached the cliffs as the sun was sinking beneath the horizon, but did not let that hinder his search. For days, for months, for years he had lived in darkness--what was one night? One cave was searched. The next, the next. The stench of blood lay heavy over the area, swept towards him by the sea breeze. Thom followed the smell, but, unfortunately, it was not Zach's mangled body that greeted him. It was a headless deer carcass, left just outside of a cave. This was the one. He stormed to the mouth of the cave, half-hood flaring to its full extent as he glared into the darkness, finally bellowing, "ZACH!" His voice echoed around the cave, slightly startling even him--and was sure to attract the attention of anyone within it. Drip... drip... drip... a lonely trickle of water echoed through the cave's otherwise impenetrable silence. It was nighttime, though the cave's lone resident could hardly care. He lay on his side, eyes wide, the blood on his hands leaving them slippery. His thoughts were elsewhere - planning for an uncertain future, while trying to make sense of the past. And then there were those who wanted to hurt him. To kill him. How safe was he really? He felt exposed here. There was no lock on his cave. He had nothing to protect himself with but the teeth and claws he'd used to tear apart the deer. He licked his lips for the umpteenth time that evening, trying to rid them of blood. Time wore on.
The loud bellowing made him jump, scattering waxy leaves left and right. It filled the cave, so loud. He clamped his hands over his ears, ignoring the wet feeling of the blood running down his neck. Someone wanted him. Him. What were they here for? What did they want? Was it Chubbs? He curled up more, taking his hands away from his ears. Frantically he searched the area with his eyes. The darkness couldn't hide anything from him - whoever was here, they hadn't come into the actual cave. The cave was safe, he knew, somehow. His instincts told him to freeze, and he did. His heart leapt to his throat. Maybe they wouldn't notice him if he was absolutely quiet... The was a long silence while Thom listened for a reaction. Over the dying echos of his voice, there was briefly the sound of moving leaves, then silence, stillness. It could have been anything. But the deer, that headless deer, it should have kept the animals away. The dragon was home. He had to be. Lips curving in a mad sneer, Thom took a step into the cave. A step, then a second, the clink of his crutch echoing faintly with his single footstep. "ZACH!" he repeated, as loud as the first time. It was not a question. "I know your name now, dragon man," he drawled, an almost sing-song lilt to his voice. He laughed, taking a third step. Thud, clink. "You killed me, Zachary Bloodstone. Come out an' I'll return the favor." Zach exhaled in a sudden burst. He'd been holding his breath the entire time. Whatever - or whomever - had decided to burst into his cave had not been fooled by the silence. They called his name again, and in another rustling of leaves Zach had risen to his feet. His tail was all wound up, and he was shaking from a combination of the cold and fear.
Blood rushed from his face as he listened to the loud, laughing words. A killer was after him. And they knew his name. That was impossible! Only one other islander knew his last name - but Pyroth walked on four legs, not one. That voice... it sounded so familiar... as did the clinking noise of metal against the hard rock floor.
He hadn't killed any islanders, though. Or had he? The past couple of days were vague. What if he'd killed someone and didn't even know it!? It was possible, even probable. He backed up a little, sending a few more leaves falling from his feet. His words were choked at first. He tried again, louder this time. "Wh-who'sss there?" Leaves again among the fading echos. It was hard to pinpoint the sound, but it reinforced his conclusion that someone was in the cave. He waited. He could be patient. He had spent an eternity in darkness over the past few days. This cave was open, did not have bug crawling all over him. He could wait. It paid off. The reply came, along with the familiar dragging S's of the dragon's dialect. The voice came towards him, towards the mouth of the cave, and though there was a faint echo, the direction was still clear. Step, clink. Step, clink. His movements were slow. There was no hurry. Indeed, he was quite came, though the mad smile remained. His task would be easier if he could pinpoint the dragon. "You don't know my name, Zachary Bloodstone," he assured the dragon man, a chuckle in his voice. Even if Zach did, which Thom doubted, it wouldn't matter. Why should he grace his prey with a name when it had taken his own cleverness to deduce Zach's? Zach would have to work to learn his. "You would recognize me, I think, but not in this dark cave. Come out an' meet me, Zach." "I-I don't?" Well, that eliminated a couple dozen people. Whether or not he remembered a lot of the names of other islanders, he had known them at one point. That would mean this was someone he hadn't caught the name of. It clicked almost instantly. The sound of a crutch, the voice, the insanity. It was the snake-man.
Hadn't Sabin warned him just days ago to keep away from the snake? Sabin was right. Now this guy was out for his blood, as he'd been suspecting lately. Nearly everyone was now. Only a couple people didn't want to kill him, and they were far away from here. He'd have to protect himself in the future, if he came out of this alive. It seemed uncertain. His thoughts lapsed and his mind went blank with sudden contsricting fear. He was reduced to licking at the drying blood on his hands until he could pull them away and get his head together again. He breathed into his hands again and rubbed them together for warmth, desperately looking for the mad snake. Despite his fears he was slightly curious. What had the doctor done to the cobra? He wasn't really dead, Zach hoped faintly. That would just be too much more blood on his own hands.
He moved forward until he was near the entrance, though off to the side enough that he couldn't be seen by someone in it. His tail twitched. It was obvious from the weakness of his voice that he was terrified. "Eh heh... I've got it... you must be the s-ss-s-sssnake.""You don't," he pleasantly assured the dragon man, taking another step in the direction of the voice. Keep him talking. The more he talked, the easier it would be to find him. However, when the voice addressed him, it had moved--Zach was off to his side, far too close for comfort. Hissing angrily, nonexistant fangs bared, the cobra whirled towards the voice, eyes seeking its source through the darkness and shadows of the cave at night. But just as quickly, the anger was gone once more, bitter laughter rising in its stead. "Well done, Zachary, well done. But that is not my name, now is it? The snake. Tch." Keep talking. Provoke a reply. Thom weaved his way towards the voice, careful to circle around from the mouth of the cave. It wouldn't do to have the dragon trying to run off. "A-alright th-then. If y-you won't tell me yours, then h-how did you f-f-find out mine?" He stayed where he was, taking in each breath as if it were his last. His wings and frill were open wide in an unconscious attempt to make himself look bigger, scarier to a potential predator such as this one. He still couldn't see the cobra-man, and that was not good. It was like dragging out the inevitable. Each click of the metal crutch against the floor reaffirmed this.
He desperately wanted to bolt, but he'd run right into the snake. A thought struck him. He doubted the answer would make the situation any better, but it was something he didn't understand. "Sssay... wh-what did you mean earlier about me k-killing you?" What was the harm? He could strike up a conversation. It would keep Zach talking, it would keep himself calm. He needed to stay calm. If he grew angry again, he may slip up, and the dragon might escape. Zachary Bloodstone would not be leaving this cave again. "An announcement," he offered, after a pause. Step, click. Step, click. "You've been banned from th' village, did y' know?" Banned from the village to live in a cave, to die in a cave. Thom chuckled. Step, click. He paused at the question that followed, eyes narrowing. "You? You went whinin' to th' labs, I don't doubt. Complainin' of a crushed top hat. An' I relived the wreck that sent me here. I watched my funeral from th' tomb they built for me, time and again, over and over, eaten alive by bugs--I lived in darkness for a thousand years!" He was shouting by the end of the 'explanation', having completely failed at his goal of staying calm. Lifting a hand, he pointed it threateningly in the general direction of Zach's voice, shouts echoed by the cave. "I will see you to the gates of your own hell b'fore I ever return to my own!" "Oh. I guesss I f-figured as much." He looked down at his feet. In all honesty there were few other reasons to wake up on a cliff on an island like this. He just had to go run into Alec, didn't he...
When he looked up again, he could see the human snake had come all the way into the cave, blocking the way out with his position. It was a paranoid's nightmare come true. The would-be killer was there and there was nowhere to run or hide. It was certain - he was going to die here. He wavered, hesitant. Moving forward or backward was equally damning. He waited quietly, tail swishing quickly, as the other man's voice rose in anger. He'd caught on quickly.
The shouts seemed to hit a nerve in Zach. Alone for days, he'd formulated the thought that he was being hunted, by everyone from Moreau to the most innocent-looking islanders. The snake-man's threats only served to strongly reinforce the delusion. "Ssso wh-what if I did? You hit me with that crutch of yoursss, you deserved it. You wanted to kill me. You and everyone elssse! I knew all along you were all out to get me. I knew it. I knew it."
He cupped one hand over the front of his snout. As if he'd suddenly made a complete turn-around in emotion, he gave a nervous high-pitched giggle and shook his head. "But Sssabin won't let you get away with thisss. He'll make you pay again like he did before. I know he will. He and Kaveri, they're the only onesss who don't want me dead!" His words tapered off into further bizarre giggling. The dragon began to reply and, regaining some composure, Thom moved into action, following the sound. Step, clink--there. The dragon man came into sight, not much more than a shadow in the darkness, but a moving, living shadow nonetheless. Slowly, carefully, Thom continued forward while the dragon man spoke, pleased that Zach was serving as a distraction for himself. Closer, closer... He paused, tail gliding to serve in place of his short leg, allowing him to stand without the aid of the crutch, which he silent set aside, leaning it against a stalagmite. Walking was slower now, but still possible. Step, glide, step, glide. Zach's final word pronounced his own sentance, and, tail coiling beneath him like a spring, Thom lunged. The snake struck, though it's intent was not to bite. Instead, the cobra's attack carried him onto the giggling shadow, tackling the dragon man to the cold floor of the cave. The snake reacted instantly, long, sinuous tail lashing around to loop around the dragon's neck once, twice, squeezing just tightly enough to let Zach know it would not be moving. Thom, meanwhile, used his weight to pin the dragon man beneath him, clawed hands holding Zach's arms just beneath his elbows. Breathless, giddy, he laughed, even as his tail began to tighten around the dragon man's throat. "A hat. I hated th' hat, not you. Sabin? Won't he? He's not here, is he? I'm still awake. An' you're still dyin'. Trouble breathin'?" The snake seemed to come out of nowhere, and before he knew it he hit the ground horns and wings-first, jarring his head and back painfully. He yelled, but it was cut off suddenly. In that moment of confusion, something was pulled very tightly against his neck and the breath was knocked out of him by the way he was being sat on. He tried to reach up with both hands and pry the noose off of his neck, but those too were being forced down. His long tail thrashed, but in his panic couldn't seem to move as he wanted it to.
He hissed, struggled, but as the tail grew tighter around his neck his vision seemed to grow dark around the edges, a circle that burned inward. All he could see were two dim tunnels. His throat and lungs were burning, and the color in his face was changing quickly. The only sound he was capable of making in response to the snake-man was a choked gurgle of indecipherable emotion and meaning.
His thrashing was getting weaker, his thoughts becoming utterly insubstantial. His whole life didn't flash before his eyes, but several poignant moments did. He was at his father's funeral again, throwing a handful of grass on the grave and his mother shrieking at him about disrespecting the dead. His father had been a b*****d, but everyone loved him. Even his mother. And then he was lying in the hospital with only three limbs to his name. It had been a month since the accident and he was finally coherent enough for those five minutes. The doctor glanced at him, frowned. He'd wanted to see Adeline. He'd wanted to tell her he was sorry for what happened. The nurse in the room looked away from him. The doctor cleared his throat and explained - but the long story short, she was dead. Things grew hazy.
So this was it, he was going to die. It was too easy. There was nothing to stop him, here in the cave. There were no cameras, no islanders, no staff. Just the predator and prey. Zach was dying. The struggling was growing weaker, the tail was tightening its grip. It wouldn't take much longer. Seconds to minutes, minutes to seconds. Who cared? Thom was thrilled by his revenge, the cobra was thrilled by its first real kill. Any second now it would be over. In reality, the time was surprisingly short. It was over in a matter of seconds. Though there were no cameras, there was GPS, and warnings had jumped to screens in the labs when Zach's vitals began to slow. Once the confrontation was pinpointed, it was simple work to buzz the culprit. Thom tensed briefly as a familiar tingling ran down his neck and spine, then fell limp, sliding to the ground beside the dragon man even as his tail released it's hold on Zach's neck. He was out cold. With the tail loosened, Zach drew in a shaky, painful breath of air, releasing it with a deep series of coughs. Somehow, he'd managed to survive, even when he'd been about to die. He didn't question the turn of fate, and was too lost for breath to think about it in any great detail. With shaking hands, he pried the tail away from his neck, too weak to dig his claws in even a little. He didn't even have the strength to move from where he was, with his wings splayed out underneath him uncomfortably and his lungs on fire. His body was wracked with coughing yet again.
Before he had the chance to say or do anything, a sharp shock got him in the back of the neck and rendered him unconscious, as the snake-man had just been. Sabin Duvert ... at least Thom assumed that there weren't cameras in the caves. While not spaced as frequently, there are very few locatoins on the island that were true blind spots to the cameras for very large areas. Nevertheless, by the time Zach wakes up, Thom is gone. Zach woke up with a jolt. Light was flooding into the cave from the entrance, and the sound of jungle birds squawking and singing floated over on the warm breezes. There was an odd smell mixed with that of the ocean, like rotten meat, but it was faint. Everything seemed so undisturbed that the night before could almost have been just a bad dream. But his neck and lungs still ached, and he was lying right where he had when he'd been strangled. His attacker was, luckily, nowhere in sight. He reached up to his neck and felt pain wherever his fingers touched skin and scale. So he'd been attacked, almost killed. Somehow, in hindsight, it seemed so obvious that it would happen. There was no joke to what he'd said to the cobra - suspicion had turned into fact in his mind even before the snake-man had tried to strangle him. Everyone on the island but two were after him, out to spill his blood. Why? Why not? They had reasons. Reasons he didn't even fully understand. Reasons that if he did know could drive him as mad as the rest of them. He didn't want to die, not by their hands. He just couldn't. But they'd be back eventually, one way or another. Hoping to catch him sleeping so they could drive their claws into him like so many needles into a pincushion till he bled to death. Trying to strangle the last of his breath from him with hands or tails or tentacles or rope. The fear was like quicksand, dragging him down with gruesome scenarios, vivid portents of murder. He snapped out of it long enough to realize he'd been spacing out staring at the ceiling of the cave. Rolling over onto his stomach, his wings ached as they were finally freed from under his back. While they seemed sore and stiff, they hadn't been broken. Gradually he pulled his body up into a hunched-over mockery of sitting, letting his stunted wings fall loosely behind him. Priorities would have to be made. No place on the island was safe. He needed protection. Sabin could only help him so much. If he didn't do anything to protect himself, he'd just be a sitting duck for whatever the other islanders planned to do to him. It didn't matter who they were, but he wasn't going to rest until he was sure no one would ever be able to hurt him again. The sunlight was beckoning, though. If he didn't bask he'd feel off all day. He glanced over at the skull of the buck he'd killed, its empty eye sockets leering at him. With an expression of worry he turned away, and wordlessly trudged out of the cave.
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Sabin Duvert Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Sep 12, 2006 12:23 am
Hot humidity. That's what Thom felt long before he opened his eyes. The last thing he remembered... attaching Zach.... it seemed distant. The cobra in you almost delights in the heat, it brings activity, movement, and energy. But before you even open your eyes, the humidity and degree of the temperature is oppressive, even to your system. In fact, because your body no longer regulates itself nearly as efficiently as a human, the heat of the room raises your body temperature above normal, effectively giving you a low-grade fever after being in the room for a while.
When you do open your eyes, it's to a very very low light. It's almost imperceptable, with a vaguely reddish tint. The room is empty and featureless. The walls are smooth, the floor is hard and smooth. There is a water basin in the corner, and another, empty basin.
The flashes start out very infrequently, and only for a brief moment, making Thom wonder if he really even sees them. On the walls, the faces of his deceased teammates. There only for an instant.
But as time passes, the flashes become more frequent, and last longer. The faces are blank... sometimes eyes closed, sometimes open. They look dead in these, like morgue-shots. Sometimes, you'll hear things. Snippets of one of their voices.... or snippets of your funeral... or snippets of one of their funerals. These last for the duration of your internment.
On the second or third day (time is difficult to mark in this place), you feel an intermittant tingling that will pass over your body... like the chip in your neck is about to be activated.... but it never knocks you out. There is no pattern to it, just a short, quick tingle that passes over you.
On the next day, when you wake, rats have joined you in your chamber. Nearly two dozen of them. They've drunk your water, and you wake to them nibbling on you experimentally.
If what Thomas experienced before was his burial, than this was his Hell. Where before he was met with his funeral, then darkness and bugs.... he had now passed on to something altogether worse.
Thom is in this... place... for about four days. When he sleeps, the water is changed, and the basin emptied.
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